


Bicycle Blues

by Aerlalaith



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Alternate Universe, Angst and Humor, Beaches, Bicycles, Dogs, Interns & Internships, M/M, Romance, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2432000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerlalaith/pseuds/Aerlalaith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Spock is shunted off to the North Coast for the summer, crashes his only mode of transportation, and somehow finds himself starring in his own personal romcom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Spock was wet. He was cold. This was because it was raining.   
   
It had, in fact, been raining all week.   
   
To add insult to injury, he was unable to make his daily rounds in the comfort of a hovercar—or even in some form of public transportation. Spock would have been willing to put up with a little extra necessary mental shielding if it had meant that he could commute across three coastal towns while riding in something with a roof.  
   
But, alas.   
   
No.  
   
Instead, he was stuck riding that most infamous of human contraptions, the bicycle, up and down the monstrous hills of the North Pacific Coast, legs aching with every additional mile. His overcoat and rain pants might have been water resistant, but they could do little for the droplets smearing across his face into his eyes, dripping down his back, and spreading cold across his shoulder blades. His fingerless gloves were likewise soaked, and his hands were white and numb.  
   
Under pain of death, Spock might have been willing to admit that there was some variation in the types of rain that fell in this lush land. They ran the gamut all the way from light mist to complete downpour. To a desert-bred Vulcan however, these slight variations counted for very little against the bigger picture—which was that it was raining. And that it had been raining. All. Week. Long.  
   
Spock steeled himself for the next hill. It was his last before the relative warmth and dryness of his host family’s home, but it was also the steepest. Switching the lever to a lower gear, blinking water out of his eyelashes and flinching when it ran inside his jacket, legs preemptively throbbing, he began the climb.  
   
There were few vehicles on the road, for which Spock could only be grateful. It was one thing to ride a bicycle uphill in the rain. It was quite another to ride a bicycle uphill in the rain with cars rushing past your efforts, their occupants dry and comfortable.   
   
Spock reached the halfway point, by which there stood a curiously bent tree. As he drew in a breath and rested for the briefest of moments, he heard the _put, put, put_ of a motor behind him, growing louder.    
   
He sighed as the motorcycle—for that’s what it was, rumbled past him. Then blinked as it slowed, and stopped.  
   
The man on the motorcycle twisted around to look at Spock. He wore jeans, which were soaked, a leather jacket, and no helmet. His blond hair was matted to his scalp with the rain. He smiled.  
   
“That’s quite a hill,” he said, gesturing up in the direction Spock was headed. “Want a lift?”  
   
Spock’s right eye twitched. “No, thank you,” he said coolly. “I am quite capable of reaching the top.” He re-settled his feet on the pedals.   
   
The man on the motorcycle shrugged, watching as Spock began once more to make his slow ascent.   
   
“All right,” he said. He gunned the engine.  “Suit yourself.” And he was off again with a rumble through the wind and the mist, leaving Spock behind to make his way, creaking and miserable, up the slope.  
   
It had started like this:  
   
“Cadet Spock!” said Captain Pike, cornering Spock just outside his astrophysics lab.  “It’s been ages.”  
   
“Ages?” Spock said, not really paying attention. He was much more focused on balancing his personal and academic PADDs in one hand, and a delicate piece of instrumentation full of copper wire and other, odd bits, in the other.  
   
“Since we’ve spoken,” Pike said. If Spock had bothered to actually listen to what Pike was saying, Pike’s cheerful mannerism would have been immediately put him on his guard.  
   
“It has been the standard fourteen Earth days since our last meeting,” Spock replied vaguely, still concentrating on the materials in his hands as Pike led him through the halls of Starfleet Academy.  
   
“Then we’re due for a meeting then,” said Pike, stopping outside one of the cafes on Starfleet’s campus.  
   
Spock finally looked up.  “Sir?” he said warily.   
   
“Let’s have lunch,” Pike said.  
   
“I do not require sustenance at this time,” Spock tried.  
   
“My treat,” said Pike, kind of ignoring him and also kind of pushing him through the door of the café.   
   
Spock considered the merits of resisting, then considered the merits of what his advisor might do to him if he did so.  
   
“Very well,” he said grudgingly, stepping inside.  
   
Spock ordered a salad. Pike looked at him. “Will that be enough?”  
   
“Yes.”  
   
Pike looked doubtful. “And a hummus plate as an appetizer,” he said, handing the menu to the waiter.  
   
“Anything to drink?” asked the waiter, tapping his stylus on the side of his faded jeans, and looking bored.  
   
“Water will be sufficient,” said Spock. “Thank you.”  
   
“Water’s good for me, too,” said Pike.   
   
The waiter nodded, mumbled something about how their food would be out in a few, and dragged his feet back towards the kitchen.  
   
Once he was out of earshot, Pike leaned in. “So, Spock.”  
   
“Captain Pike,” said Spock neutrally.  
   
 Pike smiled. “So, now that you’re almost done with your second year at Starfleet, what are your plans for the summer?”  
   
Spock blinked at this. “You refer to the summer academic term?  Registration begins tomorrow, but I had planned on investigating one of the advanced engineering courses, as well as participating in a robotics project.”  
   
Pike sat back again. “I don’t think you need to take any classes this summer,” he said, voice dry. “You’ve been working hard enough.  I think you deserve a break.”  
   
Spock hesitated. “I have been researching suitable locations to spend a week between terms in the southwest.”  
   
Pike crossed his arms. “A week.”  
   
“Between the ending of the spring term and the beginning of the summer, yes,” Spock said, wondering why this needed clarifying.  
   
“Didn’t you do that _last_ summer?”  
   
Spock tilted his head. “Indeed,” he said, somewhat surprised that Pike had remembered.  
   
Pike shook his head.  “Spock,” he said. He stopped as the waiter came back with the hummus plate. He reached for a piece of pita and tore some off with all the ferocity of his primate ancestors.  “Mmm, this is good.  I haven’t eaten all day.”  He chewed, then fixed Spock with a look.  “Spock,” he repeated.  “You’ve been living here for almost two years and you haven’t been to anywhere but San Francisco and Phoenix.”  
   
“I have also visited Flagstaff,” said Spock stiffly.   
   
Pike rolled his eyes. “The point,” he said, “is that I think you need to broaden your horizons a bit.  Look beyond the classroom.  And not,” he added pointedly when Spock opened his mouth to protest, “By going on a day-hike to the Grand Canyon Visitor Center.” He took another bite of the pita.  
   
Spock closed his mouth.  He opened it again. “Sir,” he started.  He paused. “I do not understand the need,” he said finally.  “Are my ‘horizons’ not broadened enough by virtue of my coming to Earth to pursue my education?”  
   
Pike put his food down and leaned forward, his elbows on the table.  “Spock,” he said.  “When you were on Vulcan—”  
   
Spock’s face immediately went stonier than usual.   
   
“—when you were on Vulcan,” Pike continued, undaunted, “You studied. You worked hard.  In the lab.  In the classroom.  At home.” He paused.  “And here on Earth, I’ve seen you work hard. Again: in the classroom and the lab.”  His eyes twinkled. “And I presume at home, too.”  
   
He waited, obviously wanting for Spock to acknowledge this.  Spock acquiesced with a short, jerky nod.  
   
Pike’s voice became somewhat gentler. “But that's not all that Starfleet’s about, Spock.  It’s about exploring.  It’s about pushing your boundaries.  You know how to work in the lab or the classroom.  Now you need to practice doing it _out there_.”  He punctuated this sentence with a wide gesture of his arms towards what Spock presumed to mean the greater universe.  
   
“I would prefer to practice my skills on the robotics project,” said Spock.  
   
Pike sighed. He wiped his hands on a napkin and then reached into his pocket to pull out a small data pad.  He pressed it on, then entered something into it while Spock watched, eyes wary.  “Here,” he said, handing it to Spock.  
   
Spock took it, quickly scanning the contents.  
   
“A summer research exchange program?” he said.  “I do not believe that I would be suited to such—”  
   
“No, no, Spock,” said Pike, waving his hands at the data pad.  “It’s perfect for you.”  
   
Spock’s forehead furrowed in doubt.   
   
“Just hear me out.”  
   
“Very well,” said Spock, not really having a choice.  
   
Pike smiled.  He folded his hands together, then paused for a moment while the waiter arrived to place their food in front of them.  “Anyway,” he said, after the man had gone, “It’s a program especially for off-worlders.”  
   
Spock’s mouth tightened.  _Off-worlder_.  If his father’s people viewed him as little more than a disadvantaged curiosity, and his mother’s people saw him as an off-worlder, to whom did he belong?  
   
Oblivious to Spock’s inner turmoil, Pike continued on.  “The idea is that beings who come to Earth to live and study, should be exposed to the history and the culture as well as to, well, their studies.”  
   
“Earth’s history is very long, and its cultures, varied,” Spock said.  He stabbed at his salad with little interest.   
   
Pike gave him a quelling look.  Spock folded his hands in his lap.   
   
“Anyway,” said Pike, “A lot of different, respected, universities participate, not just Starfleet.  You would stay with a host family, be provided with some form of work or study relevant to the region, and have plenty of opportunities to explore.”   
   
“I see,” said Spock.  
   
“So, what do you think?”  
   
“No,” said Spock.   
   
Pike blinked.  “What?”  
   
“No, _sir_ ,” said Spock.  He kept his voice as bland as possible as he said, “I do not believe that this program would be a good fit for me, sir.”  
   
“But you’ve barely even glanced at the website,” said Pike, aghast.   
   
“Based on your description, I have surmised that the work offered in place of my coursework here at Starfleet would not be sufficiently intellectually stimulating,” Spock said stiffly.  “Therefore, the program would not be a logical use of my summer.”  
   
Pike rolled his eyes.  “Cadet, the _work_ isn’t what’s supposed to be interesting.  It’s the stuff around the work that you’re supposed to be focusing on.  The work is just to facilitate that.”  
   
“An interesting approach,” Spock said, “But I still do not believe it is one I am suited for.”  
   
“Tough,” said Pike.  “I’ve already signed you up.”  
   
Spock’s nostrils flared.  “And I am to have no say in this, sir?”  
   
“Nope,” said Pike, reaching for his sandwich.   
   
“I see,” said Spock, displeased, but not really surprised.  “Am I allowed say in which region I will be sent to?”  
   
“No,” said Pike,  “the program picks that.”  He looked thoughtful for a moment,  “Although I think they just take a look at where you’re from, then try and send you somewhere that’s pretty much the opposite.”  
   
And indeed, thought Spock, breaking away from his ruminations to examine the dreary environment around him, Captain Pike’s assessment had been accurate.  His file had stated that he was from a large city on a desert planet.  Spock sighed. Therefore, he had been sent to a small town.  One with the vast ocean on one side, and a temperate rainforest on the other.  
   
By the time Spock reached his host family’s home, the rain had abated.  Legs aching, he dismounted from the bicycle and rolled it over to the side of the garage, propping it up while he fished in his pocket for the keys.  His hands closed around the cold metal, and he inserted it into the garage door.  
   
Despite his reservations, Spock had actually found his temporary home itself to be quite comfortable.  The house was wood, painted white, with blue trim along the sides.  It perched at the edge of a basalt cliff, still somehow standing despite being almost two hundred years old (he suspected that there had been many renovations).  From his room on the third floor, Spock could stare down through large bay windows straight into the foam of the Pacific.  Rickety shore pine, salmonberry, and salal plants surrounded the property, and Spock had been assured that he could consume the berries, though he might find them tart.  
   
Because of its age however, the house boasted little in the form of technological amenities.  For example, instead of a keycode, he had been given actual metal keys for the doors.   
   
He looked down as something twined around his ankles.  Fluffy The Cat stared up at him, then butted his leg and purred.   
   
“I do not understand,” Spock muttered, twisting the key and hearing the responding creak of the metal.  “How it is that I am soaking wet, and you are still completely dry.”  He heaved the garage door open, and then wheeled his bike inside.  
   
He set the bike near the door leading into the house and closed the garage door with a bit more force than necessary. The cat darted in at the very last moment.   
   
For a brief three seconds, he allowed himself to revel in the cool darkness of the empty garage, and the sounds of the rain falling outside, where it could not reach him.  After a moment however, he shook his head, water flying from his hair, and began to unzip his raincoat.  He shook that out too, looked at it in distaste, then hung it up on the hook next to the door.   
   
He had just toed off his boots and bent down to shuck off his rain pants, when the door opened to reveal the dirt-smudged face of a beaming five year old.  Fluffy The Cat immediately wriggled between Spock’s legs to escape, catching on his half-down pant leg, and tripping him.   
   
Spock went down hard.  
   
He sat there for a moment, dazed, even as the child in front of him clapped his hands in welcome.   
   
“Spock!” he crowed.  “Spock!”  He turned around to shout over his shoulder, “Mama, Spock’s back!”  He grinned.  “You’re silly Spock,” he chastened. “Get off the floor.  Mama said it’s dirty.  She said it today.”  He rubbed at the dirt on his cheek, accomplishing nothing but a further smear.  
   
“Fascinating,” Spock said blankly, making no motion at all to get up.  He ran his body through a mental checklist.  Nothing appeared to be broken, although his rear was likely going to be rather bruised.  
   
He preferred not to examine the state of his ego.  
   
“Come on, Spock,” said the child.  “Come _on._   There’s curry, and Mama said we had to wait until you got home and I’m _starving_.  But she said we had to wait for you and so we waited and waited and waited and waited—”  
   
Spock summoned up the energy to raise his eyebrow.  
   
“And waited and waited!” the child finished.  “So come _on_!”  
   
Spock felt an ineffectual tug at his wrist.  
   
“Curry,” he said.  
   
“Mama!” shrieked the child.  Spock winced.  “Mama, Spock’s home!  Can we eat now?”  
   
“I heard you the first time, dear!” a woman’s voice called back.  Then, “Come on in, Spock!  Dinner’s ready!”  
   
With a groan, Spock lurched to his feet.  
   
There was a giggle.  He looked down.  
   
“Your pants are falling off,” said the child.   
   
Spock shut his eyes.  “I am in the process of removing them,” he said, temper beginning to fray.  
   
“Spock?  Henri?  Are you coming?”  
   
“Spock’s taking off his pants!” Henri shouted back.  
   
“Oh,” came the voice from the kitchen, this time a little softer.  There was a bit of an embarrassed pause.  “Take your time, Spock!”  
   
Spock felt his cheeks flush.   He wrenched his rain pants off in one motion and stepped quickly inside, padding on socked feet towards the stairs.  
   
“Hello, Hyun Jae,” he said as he passed the kitchen.  The woman inside waved at him, stirring something in a pot.   
   
“Welcome back, Spock,” she said.  “How was the ride?”  
   
Spock grimaced.  “Wet,” he said, holding up his rain pants.  
   
His host mother laughed.  “Is it ever _not_?”  
   
Spock shifted uncertainly.  “I assume your query is rhetorical.”  
   
“What’s rhetorical?” said Henri.  
   
“A phrase in the form of a question that is used for effect, or to prove a point, rather than being expectant of an answer,” said Spock, more out of habit than anything else.   
   
Henri gave him an unimpressed look.  
   
“Henri, go make yourself useful and hang Spock’s rain pants over the bathtub,” said Hyun Jae, making a shooing motion at him with her hands.   
   
“Okay,” said Henri.  He remained motionless.   
   
“And when you get back, we can eat,” Hyun Jae added.  
   
Henri’s face brightened considerably.  He reached up and practically ripped the pants from Spock’s slackened grip.  “Okay!”  
   
Spock closed his eyes as Henri raced from the kitchen.  
   
“And wash your face!” Hyun Jae called after him.  She turned to Spock.  “Why don’t you sit down for a moment, Spock?  You look beat.”  
   
Spock blinked at her concern.  “I have not participated in any physical altercations.”  
   
“It’s a synonym for tired,” she said, smiling, and turning back to stir the pot.  
   
“Oh,” Spock said, too—well, _beat_ —to really care.  “I see.”  
   
“Sit down,” she suggested.  
   
Spock sat.  
   
Henri came skidding back into the kitchen.  His dark brown hair was askew, and his big toe stuck out of a hole in his dinosaur printed socks.  “Okay!” he panted.  “I hung up the pants.  Can we eat now?”  
   
“Did you wash your hands with soap, too?”  
   
“Um,” said Henri.   
   
Hyun Jae pointed at the sink, and Henri slunk over to it.  Spock looked at his own hands, covered with the grime from his commute.   
   
“I will wash as well,” he said, rising and joining Henri over by the sink.   
   
Hyun Jae hummed her agreement.  “How much rice do you want?”  
   
Spock considered, turning off the tap and drying his hands on the towel next to the sink.  Henri was already in his seat by then, clutching a spoon and looking ravenously towards the rice cooker.   
   
“One paddle’s worth will be sufficient to start with,” he said politely, making his way back over to the table.   
   
“I want some,” said Henri.  
   
“I never would’ve guessed,” said his mother, spooning up rice and depositing it on his plate.  
   
Henri looked at it, then up at her.  “More,” he said.  
   
“Let’s see you finish that and then you can have some more.  Spock, do you want one or two ladles of curry?”  
   
“Two, please,” said Spock.   
   
“How come Spock gets two?” Henri whined.   
   
“Because he’s bigger than you are, and he just biked all the way to Wheeler and back,” said Hyun Jae.  She served herself and put the pot back on the stove, and the rice cooker back on the counter.  “How was work today, Spock?” she asked, sitting down as well.   
   
“Adequate,” said Spock.  “Though the research is going more slowly than anticipated.”  
   
“Huh,” said Hyun Jae.  “Is it interesting at all?  I mean, you’re not a medical student, right?  I hope you’re not bored.”  
   
“It is…interesting,” Spock allowed.  “Though it does not fall into my preferred areas of interest.  Vulcans can, to a large degree, control their reaction to pain, so investigations into the nature of pain itself—as applied to a species that cannot—is something that I have not previously been exposed to.”  
   
“That’s good,” said Hyun Jae.  “I’m glad you’re not terribly bored.  I—” she looked down.  “What, Henri?”  
   
Henri let go of her shirtsleeve and leaned in to whisper loudly into her ear, “Mama, tell Spock what I did today.”  
   
She nudged him with her elbow.  “Why don’t you tell him?”  
   
They both looked at Spock.  After a pause that drew out uncomfortably long, Spock realized that he was supposed to speak.   
   
“What activities did you partake in today, Henri?” he hazarded.  
   
Henri looked at his mother.  
   
“Go on,” she said.  
   
“I went on a hike!” he announced, legs swinging back and forth under the table.  
   
“Stop kicking the table,” said Hyun Jae.  She put on hand on an errant knee to still the motion.  
   
Spock blinked.  “In this weather?  It was quite rainy today.”  
   
“Yeah,” Henri said.  “It was really rainy.  I got really wet.”    
   
“I see,” said Spock, not really sure what else he was supposed to say.  He tried to think of what his mother would have asked him, as a child.  “And was the, er, hike.  Was it—did you find it intellectually stimulating?”  
   
Henri looked at his mother for a translation.  
   
“Tell him what you found,” she said.  
   
“Oh!” Henri said, turning back to Spock, his curry forgotten in his excitement.  “I found a slug!  A big slug!”  
   
“A slug.”  
   
“Yeah!  It was big and brown and yellowy.”  
   
“Yellowy.”  
   
“Yeah!  It was a banana slug!”  He indicated with his hands the relative size.  
   
“Ah,” said Spock, now equipped with a name.  “ _Ariolimax columbianus._   How interesting.  I have never seen an _Ario_ —” he noticed Henri’s eyes glazing over, “—banana slug,” he finished lamely.  
   
“I licked it,” said Henri, beaming.  
   
Hyun Jae covered her face with her hands.  
   
Spock stared.  “Fascinating,” he said, weakly.  
   
~ * ~  
   
The following week followed a predictable pattern.  Spock left the house at precisely 8:00 am. He biked to the Rinehart Clinic, which boasted a (very small) research facility, tending to arrive between 8:30 and 8:35.  He began work at 8:45 am. At noon, he was required by regulation to take a thirty-minute break (he usually spent this time at his desk, reading). As a summer “intern” he was only permitted to remain on the premises, working, until 4:45 pm.   
   
If the weather allowed, Spock would oftentimes return to the house via the park alongside Nehalem Bay, rather than by way of the main highway.  He found the area interesting enough, although once he reentered into the city of Manzanita, he tended to head straight home, rather than lingering in the small shops or cafes.  Spock had neither interest in, nor need of, their wares.  
   
On the weekend, however, he found himself at a loss. Per Federation law, he was not allowed to work on the weekends.  After being informed in no uncertain terms that if he _did_ happen to show up on a Saturday, then the program would simply disallow him from working the following Monday, Spock gave it up as a lost cause.   
   
This did leave him, unfortunately, with a great deal of time to waste, which was regrettable.   
   
“Come to the beach,” demanded Henri, dressed in swimming trunks, sandals, and a fleece sweatshirt.  He carried a small plastic bucket, as well as a selection of plastic shovels, and other tools.  
   
Spock looked down at his host brother.  He looked out the window.  The sky was grey, but it wasn’t technically raining.  Spock had learned of course, that this did not mean much in the way of determining future weather patterns.  
   
“I—” he said.  
   
“Spock, are you ready?” called Hyun Jae from the front room.  
   
Spock definitely did not _sigh_ , but there might have been some slumping of the shoulders.  “Very well,” he said.  “I will get my coat.”  
   
“Spock’s almost ready!” shouted Henri.  
   
“Indoor voice, Henri!” Hyun Jae yelled back.  
   
Spock resisted the urge to rub at his temples. _Humans_.  
   
The walk to the beach was a brisk one, along Neahkahnie’s ups and downs until the road flattened out below.  Spock looked to his right, and was somewhat relieved to see a speck of blue between the clouds over the ocean.  And at the very least, the wind was not too strong.   
   
This was a new experience, he told himself, never mind that Vulcans did not, as a rule, tend to hold “new experiences” to the same high pedestal that humans did.  Nonetheless, the sand squished between his toes in a way that was not unpleasant, the behavior of the wheeling seagulls above might prove an interesting study, and it was, still, not yet raining.  
   
As soon as they bushwhacked past the dune grass into the sand, Henri dropped his towel, kicked off his sandals, and raced off straight into the water with a triumphant cry.  Spock watched with interest as his boyish shrieks of joy changed into plain boyish shrieks as soon as he reached the water’s edge, the cold clutch of the Pacific nipping at his toes.  He stopped kicking at the water long enough to carefully fill up his bucket, then half walked, half ran his way back towards them.  
   
“The water’s freezing!” he informed them, panting, seawater sloshing up and out on the sides of his bucket.  
   
“Indeed,” Spock said without surprise, envisioning a map of Earth’s thermohaline circulation.  The water along the Pacific coast came from the north; naturally it was—er—less than warm.  
   
Henri moved to upend his bucket, but halted at the expression on his mother’s face.  
   
“What did I say the last time?” she said.  
   
Henri looked a bit shifty, then exhaled.  “Build sand castles at least two feet away from the towels,” he recited.  
   
“Right,” said Hyun Jae.  She pointed.  “Go.”  
   
 Henry pouted, but obediently rotated, took a few steps, then tossed the water onto the sand.  He placed his hands on his hips.  “That’s not enough,” he decided.  “I’m going to go get more.”  He glanced up at Spock.  “Come with me to get more water,” he said.  
   
“Perhaps your mother,” Spock started, looking at Hyun Jae in a way that was not at all imploring or desperate.   
   
She turned a page in her book.  “No, no,” she said.  “You boys go have fun.  I’ll wait right here for you.”  
   
Spock narrowed his eyes, then looked down as Henri tugged at his shirt.  “Come on,” he whined.   
   
Spock was getting the sense that he was rapidly running out of allies.  He wondered if this was the sort of lesson Pike had wished from him to learn.  “Very well,” he said woodenly.  
   
He was rewarded with a beaming grin, and then Henri dashed off again towards the water.  
   
“Have fun,” said Hyun Jae.  
   
Spock wrinkled his nose a little at the very idea, then followed Henri at a more sedate pace.  As he walked, he kept his eyes fixed on the sand, the slivers and broken bits of shells having piqued his reluctant interest.  
   
He had just bent over to examine a broken off piece of scallop, one eye still watching Henri, when he heard shouts.  He straightened, looking around for the source of the noise.   
   
“Look!” said Henri, who had run up to stand next to him.  “Look, a dog!”  
   
“I see,” said Spock. It was a very disobedient dog, if the way the man running after it, waving his hands and shouting, was any indication.  He hesitated, unsure if he should lend his assistance, when the dog suddenly changed course and charged straight at them.  
   
Henri’s eyes widened in alarm, and he took a step back, dropping his bucket.  The cool water sloshed over Spock’s feet.  Without stopping to think, Spock immediately placed himself in between Henri and the oncoming animal.  After another second, he gripped Henri around the waist and hauled him up, just as the dog reached them.  Henri immediately twined his arms around Spock’s neck.  
   
The dog panted up at them, long strands of yellowish and white wiry hair covering the entirety of its face, so that only its nose was visible.  It stopped, circled them once, tail wagging, then planted its sandy forepaws on Spock’s legs.  They barely came up to past his knees.  
   
The dog’s keeper, breathing hard, finally reached them.  He lunged at the dog, managing to grab its collar before it raced off again, and firmly attached a leash to it.  Seeing that the gig was up, the dog sat, tongue lolling out in canine satisfaction.  
   
“Sorry,” the man said, finally looking up at them.  “I’m so sorry.”  
   
“There is no harm done,” Spock managed, attempting to disengage Henri’s limbs from their stranglehold on his neck.  
   
“He’s really gentle,” the man offered, speaking more to Henri than to Spock.  “Sorry he startled you.”  
   
Henri peered at the dog.  Now that it was no longer rushing him, he seemed somewhat reassured at its small stature.   
   
“Down,” he said to Spock, finally loosening his grip.   
   
Spock let him go with relief.   
   
“Can I pet him?” Henri asked.  
   
“Of course,” the man replied.  “He’s really nice.”  
   
Spock raised an eyebrow.  The man noticed.  
   
“…Just kind of an escape artist,” the man finished with a sigh.  He smiled a little self deprecatingly.  “My aunt told me not to let him off the leash.  But I’ve only had a lab so I didn’t really believe her that _he wouldn’t listen to me_.”  He directed the last bit at the dog.  
   
The dog wagged his tail.  
   
“What’s his name?” Henri asked, now petting the golden hair as if he hadn’t been completely terrified only moments ago.  
   
“Jimmy,” the man replied.  He made a slight face.  “She named him after me.  Said there was a family resemblance.”  He pointed at himself.  “Do I look like a terrier to you?”  
   
Henri giggled.  “Your hair is the same color,” he pointed out.  The man pouted comically, making Henri laugh harder.   
   
“So it is,” he acknowledged.   
   
“Is your name Jimmy, too?”  
   
“Close,” the man replied with a wink.  “I’m Jim.  What’s your name?”  
   
Henri puffed his chest out.  “I’m Henri,” he declared.  He looked at Spock.  “He’s Spock.”  
   
Jim looked at Spock as well, taking in the bowl cut, the pointed ears, and the green flush to his skin.  His eyes widened.  “Oh, hey!” he said.  “I recognize you.  The Vulcan on the bicycle!”  He held out his hand in a shaky version of the _ta’al_.  “Jim Kirk,” he said.  
   
Spock stared at him, trying to place the face amongst the sea of humans he had been introduced to.  Then he remembered.  
   
“The motorcycle,” he said.  He blinked at the _ta’al_.  “You offered me assistance.”  
   
“Yeah, I thought you looked familiar,” Kirk said.  
   
“Humans are not generally familiar with Vulcan etiquette,” said Spock, nodding towards the _ta’al_.  
   
Kirk looked a little disconcerted at his abruptness.  “Oh, yeah.  Well, ‘fleet brat,” he said.  “Mom mentioned it.”  
   
“Starfleet?” queried Spock, settling into his standard, straight-backed pose, hands linked behind him.  
   
Kirk put the _ta’al_ away.  “Uh, is there any other fleet?”  
   
“I am also enrolled in Starfleet,” Spock said.  “Although I do not recalling seeing you at the Academy—”  
   
“Oh, I’m not in Starfleet,” Kirk said hastily.  He rubbed the back of his neck.   
   
Spock stiffened further.  “I apologize, I must have misunderstood your meaning.”  
   
“No, no,” Kirk waved his hand.  “No worries.  My mom is in Starfleet, that’s all.  So, fleet _brat_.”  
   
“I see,” said Spock, though he very clearly did not.  
   
“I need to go get more water for my sand castle,” Henri piped up.  They both looked down at him.  
   
“Very well,” said Spock.  He looked at Kirk, casting his mind for the proper human etiquette.  “I—that is, we, thank you for the opportunity to become acquainted with your…” he looked down, “…dog,” he hazarded.  “He is a very—spirited—animal.”  
   
The young man looked a little despairing.  “That’s one word for it,” he said.   
   
“Say thank you, Henri,” Spock said.  
   
“Thanks!” Henri called, already halfway to picking up his dropped bucket.   
   
“No problem,” said Kirk, with a little wave.  He glanced back at Spock’s face.  “So, I guess I’ll be seeing see you guys around town.  Probably.”  
   
“Around town,” Spock echoed.   
   
“Right,” said Kirk.  He clicked his tongue and the dog stood, tail waving.  “Come on, dog,” he said.  “Let’s go.”  
   
Spock did not watch as the pair jogged off.  He turned to make sure Henri was still within a safe distance, and waited while the boy filled his bucket a second time and then ran back up to Spock.   
   
“You have collected sufficient water?” he queried.  
   
Henri gave him a look.  Spock sighed.  
   
“I will return with you to collect more later,” he said.  
   
Henri nodded as they started walking back towards Hyun Jae and the towels.  “Will you help me build my sand castle?”  
   
“I have never built a sand castle.”  
   
“Oh!” Henri’s face brightened.  “I can show you!  I’ve built lots of sand castles!  I’m really good at it.”  He waved his hand to demonstrate, or at least, tried to.  Spock sidestepped the resulting splash of water.   
   
“Very well,” Spock agreed, because he knew that at this point, surrender was the better part of valor.  
   
“Awesome!” Henri declared as they reached the, apparent, proposed castle construction site.  He upended the bucket, dumping water all over the sand and on Spock’s toes.  “Oops, sorry,” he said, looking a little guilty.  
   
“There is little harm done,” Spock replied through forced calm, simultaneously making a fervent vow to never have any children, and especially not any human ones.  He blinked as Henri got down on his knees and started packing his water bucket full of wet sand.   
   
“Here’s how you do it,” he said, frowning in concentration, and motioning for Spock to join him on the ground.  “You have to pack it in really good.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Nearly a week later, Spock returned from the Rinehart Clinic to find something gravely amiss.  For one, Fluffy The Cat was nowhere to be seen.  Given that the sun shone through the pine needles to pool on the ground in the precise pattern that a rather large tabby might curl up into, and also given that Spock happened to have stumbled upon Fluffy The Cat doing precisely that every day at 17:30 hours for the past four days, the cat’s absence struck him as rather unusual.  
   
Also, there was a dog lying contentedly in the sunbeam instead.  A very familiar dog.  
   
“Jimmy,” said Spock, after doing a quick mental check to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.  
   
The dog stood and stretched.  Then he walked over to Spock and planted his paws on Spock’s knees.  Eyebrows furrowed, Spock scooped him up under the belly and headed into the house, bike standing forgotten in the driveway.  
   
“Spock, is that you?” Hyun Jae’s voice called.  Spock followed it into the back of the house, past the kitchen, and into the garden.  He stood for a moment at the threshold to the sliding back door, gaze seeking amongst the herbs and ferns planted there.  
   
Jimmy began to wriggle.  Spock tightened his grip.  
   
“Hyun Jae?”  
   
She appeared from around the corner, shucking off gloves, and brushing past the snow peas.  “Hi, Spock!” she said.  “How was your—” she blinked and stepped closer.  “Are you holding a dog?”  
   
“Yes,” said Spock.  
   
Hyun Jae reached the deck and vaulted onto it neatly.  Brushing short black hair out of her face, she leaned in to inspect Spock’s burden.   
   
“Why, you are so cute, yes you are.  Hello, buddy.”  She scratched Jimmy’s head.  Jimmy licked her nose and she recoiled.  “Bleugh,” she said, laughing.  She looked back at Spock.  “Where did you find him?”  
   
“Outside the front door—” Jimmy’s wriggling became even more pronounced, and Spock half let him down, half dropped him onto the ground.  He grabbed at the collar before Jimmy could go any further.  “Just as I arrived.”  
   
“Huh,” said Hyun Jae.  She frowned.  “Someone’s probably looking for him, then.  I wonder who he belongs to?”  
   
Spock shook his head.  “His name is Jimmy and he is belongs to the aunt of a young man named Jim Kirk.”  
   
Hyun Jae blinked at him.  
   
If he hadn’t been holding onto the dog, Spock might have shuffled his feet.  “We—met—briefly, at the beach last Saturday.”  
   
“And you remember the guy’s name and everything?”  
   
“Of course,” Spock said, affronted.   
   
Hyun Jae swiped at the dirt on her cheek.  “Hmm,” she said.  “Okay.  Do you know where this Kirk guy lives?”  
   
“I do not,” said Spock.  
   
“Huh,” said Hyun Jae.  She looked down at the dog.  “Well, we can’t keep him.  Fluffy The Cat would probably murder him in his sleep.”  
   
Spock’s eyes darted to her face, unsure if she was employing human humor at his expense.   She smiled.   
   
“Look, he’s got tags though.  Let’s see if there’s a number to call.  Or maybe he’s chipped.”  
   
“Perhaps it would be prudent to inspect the tags inside, lest he escape again,” Spock said hesitantly.   
   
Hyun Jae pursed her lips.  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” she said after a moment.  “I don’t think F.T.C. is inside.”  The corner of her mouth twitched.  “I wasn’t kidding when I said that the cat could hold her own, but I’d rather not have to referee.”  She opened the sliding door, and gestured.  “After you, Spock.”  She looked down.  “And you too, Jimmy.  In you get.”  
   
It turned out that there was a number on the tags.   
   
“Well, that’s lucky,” said Hyun Jae.  She crouched to rub at scratch at Jimmy’s ears and then around his neck.  The dog rolled over onto his back in response.  “Do you want to call or should I?”  
   
Spock wavered.  As he found human social interaction over the phone ever more of a trial than when face-to-face, the offer was tempting.  However—“I will place the call,” he said, sparing an illogical moment to rue the fact that he had been raised to value responsibility.  He had found the dog.  It was only proper that he take responsibility for its return.   
   
“Okay,” Hyun Jae agreed.  “I have to start getting a snack for Henri ready, then.  He should be home any minute.”  
   
Spock fished his phone out of his pocket.  While he would have been content with the basic, Starfleet issue communicator he had been given as a cadet, Captain Pike had informed him that such devices were, “Strictly for Fleet activity only, and why don’t you get a damn cell phone already, Spock, it’s like you’re allergic, I shouldn’t have to use _my_ communicator to try and track you down,” and he had purchased this one only two months prior.     
   
Spock stared at the device in his hands.  Then, before he could change his mind and request that Hyun Jae make the call for him instead, he quickly dialed the number.  
   
Someone picked up on the second ring.  “Hello?” said a woman’s voice.  
   
“Hello?”  Spock said.  “Is this the number for Jim Kirk?”  
   
There was a pause, then Spock heard the woman shout away from the mouthpiece, “Jimmy!  Phone for you!”  She spoke again to Spock.  “He’ll be right here.”  
   
Spock listened with a growing amount of alarm as he heard several large thumps, and one truly spectacular crash, then disjointed swearing.  He swallowed.   
   
“Hello?” came a faintly familiar voice.  
   
“Hello?” Spock replied quickly.  “Am I speaking to Jim Kirk?”  
   
“Uh, yeah,” said Kirk.   
   
“Mr. Kirk, this is S’chn T’gai Spock.  We met very briefly at the beach last Saturday.  I am calling to inform you that—”  
   
“Who?” Jim interrupted.  
   
Spock exhaled.  “My name is Spock,” he repeated.   
   
Silence on the other line.  
   
“The Vulcan on the bicycle,” Spock added through gritted teeth.  
   
Another beat and then, “Oh, right!  Right, right!  Yeah.  Spock.  I remember you.  Uh, how did you—I mean, why are you calling?”  
   
Spock took a deep breath.  “Jimmy,” he said flatly.  
   
“…I beg your pardon?”  Kirk sounded rather taken aback, if Spock was reading the emotion correctly.  
   
“Your dog,” Spock added hastily.   “Jimmy the dog.”  
   
‘Jimmy…the dog,“ Kirk repeated.   
   
“Yes, he—”  
   
“Hold on just one moment, would you, Spock?  Can I call you Spock?”   
   
“Yes, but.  Mr. Kirk, I am attempting to inform you that—”  
   
Kirk took a deep breath.  “Jimmy!” he bellowed.  
   
“Didn’t you put him out back?” came a woman’s faint shout.  
   
There was a beat.   
   
“He is at my host family’s house,” Spock said into the quiet on the other line.   
   
There was a quick inhale. “Motherfucker,” Kirk swore.  “That little asshole.”  He groaned.  “I’m really sorry about this,” he said.  “Is it all right if I come and pick him up?”  
   
“Of course,” Spock said.  He gave him the address.  
   
Kirk sighed.  “Thanks,” he said.  “I’ll be right over.  He’s—he’s okay though and stuff, right?”  
   
Spock eyed Jimmy, who was now lying on the floor in ecstasy as Hyun Jae rubbed his belly, Henri’s snack preparation apparently forgotten.  “He seems to be perfectly well.”  
   
“Well, that’s something,” Kirk muttered.  His tone lightened.  “Anyway, I’ll be over in a few.  I’m just a few streets away.  Thanks so much.”  
   
“It is no trouble,” returned Spock.  
   
“Okay, see you soon.”  There was a click.  Spock removed the phone from his ear and turned to Hyun Jae.   
   
“He apologizes for the inconvenience and will arrive shortly to retrieve the canine,” he said.  
   
Hyun Jae’s eyes danced.  “He knows you as ‘the Vulcan on the bicycle’?” she queried.   
   
The tips of Spock’s ears flushed.  “He once passed me on the road and offered me assistance—”  
   
Hyun Jae’s eyebrows shot up.  
   
“—Which I declined,” Spock said firmly.   
   
“I thought you said you met on the beach.”  
   
“We met on the road.  I learned his name at the beach.”  Spock frowned minutely.  “I did not recall him at first, though he seemed to have no trouble recognizing me.”  
   
“Well,” said Hyun Jae lightly.  “It’s not every day you see a Vulcan on a bicycle.”  
   
“On the contrary,” Spock said dryly.  “A Vulcan on a bicycle is something with which I am well acquainted.”  
   
That startled a laugh out of her.  “You’ve got to stop saying you don’t have a sense of humor, Spock,” she chided.  “People will start to think you’re serious.”  
   
Spock opened his mouth to protest, then shut it as the doorbell rang.  Jimmy barked.  
   
“Oh, that’ll be Henri,” Hyun Jae said.  She glanced down at the dog.  “Maybe you’d better hold on to him.”  
   
Spock grabbed the collar as Hyun Jae headed towards the door.  He heard the creak of the hinges and the bang of the screen door.  Talking, then footsteps back into the kitchen, one set measured, the other decidedly less so.  
   
“Did we get a puppy?” Henri squealed as he slid into the room on socked feet.  Spock winced at the high pitch and let go of Jimmy’s collar.   
   
“Nope, sorry buddy,” said Hyun Jae.  She crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the granite countertop.  “Jimmy’s just visiting.”  
   
Henri’s lip jutted out.  “Aw,” he said.  “Can’t we keep him?”   
   
The doorbell rang again.  Jimmy started barking again.  
   
“I’ll get it!” shrieked Henri, immediately forgetting his disappointment over the dog.  He made an abrupt one hundred and eighty degree turn, slipped, and landed hard on his rear.  He took a deep, shuddering breath.  Spock watched with trepidation as his eyes filled, and then he burst into noisy tears.  
   
“Oh dear,” said Hyun Jae, stepping over Jimmy to hoist Henri up and brush him off.  “You’re fine.”  
   
“It hurts!” Henri wailed, clutching at her waist and burying his face into her abdomen.   
   
“I’m sure it does,” she soothed.  She looked over at Spock, who stood frozen.  “Why don’t you get the door?” she suggested, lifting Henri onto her hip with a groan.  
   
Spock didn’t need to be told twice.  He cast a brief glance at Jimmy, whose ears had jumped up in alarm at Henri’s ruckus.  The dog was now snuffling at the boy’s legs.  Spock decided to leave him there, and headed into the hall as quickly as propriety would allow.    
   
He reached the front door and tugged it open just as the doorbell rang for a second time.  
   
Jim Kirk stood on the threshold dressed in jeans, a ragged T-Shirt with a gigantic yellow smile on it, and a sheepish expression.  Spock could make out the shape of the motorcycle parked in the driveway behind him.  He spared a moment to wonder how Jim Kirk intended to ride it while also carrying the dog.   
   
“Uh, hey,” Kirk said, breaking him from his thoughts.  “Spock, right?”  
   
Spock nodded.  “Indeed,” he said.  “The dog is inside.  You may enter if you wish.”  
   
Spock thought he might have imagined a small twitch at the corner of Kirk’s mouth as the human stepped inside.  Spock closed the door behind him.  “Nice place,” he said.  
   
“You may remove your shoes here, Mr. Kirk,” said Spock, pointing to a shelf up against the walls.  Kirk nodded and shucked off his sneakers, placing them haphazardly next to Spock’s rain boots.  Spock’s gaze flickered to the well-worn soles and ragged ties, but he declined to comment as he led the way towards the kitchen.  
   
As they reentered the kitchen, Spock was relieved to see that Henri’s small meltdown appeared to have already run its course.  Though his face was still a bit red, and the tear tracks were clear to see on his cheeks, his eyes were dry.  
   
Spock noted the oatmeal cookie clutched in the boy’s hand as he lay his head on his mother’s shoulder, and hypothesized that its presence likely had a great deal to do with the quiet in the room.  
   
Hyun Jae turned around to greet them as they entered.  “You must be Jim Kirk,” she said, smiling.  She adjusted her hold on Henri as Jim stepped forward and they shook hands.  “I’m Hyun Jae—Spock’s host mom.  And this is my son, Henri.”  She nudged him.  “Can you say hi, Henri?”  
   
“Hi,” Henri mumbled through a scowl and a mouthful of cookie.  
   
“Nice to meet you,” replied Kirk, smiling as well.  His blue eyes crinkled as he added, “And thanks for taking care of Jimmy.”  He looked down at the dog, who had finally deigned to amble over to him and sniff his feet, tail wagging slowly.  “You, on the other hand, are in big trouble,” he said to him.  “Seriously.  How did you even get out?  The fence is two feet taller than you!”  
   
It was illogical to expect the canine to answer, Spock thought, still standing awkward and silent in the doorway, arms loose at his sides.  Humans were so peculiar.  
   
“Maybe he dug his way out,” said Hyun Jae, shifting Henri again as she moved to sit down at the table.   
   
“Maybe,” Kirk acknowledged.  He placed his hands on his hips.  “Well, hopefully it won’t happen again.  Though I can’t make any promises.”  He glared at the dog, though there was little real anger in it.  
   
Hyun Jae shrugged.  “It was really no trouble.  Your dog’s quite the charmer.”  
   
“I’ve noticed,” said Kirk drawled.  “I think it might be the only reason he’s still alive.  And if you want to get technical about it, he’s my aunt’s dog.  But I’m stuck with him, so.”  He turned to Spock.  “Thanks again for finding him.”  
   
Spock inclined his head.  “As Hyun Jae said, it was no trouble.”  What _was_ troublesome was this very disturbing urge to return Jim Kirk’s smile, but Spock wasn’t about to mention that.  
   
Clearly he was spending too much of his time in close contact with humans and not enough in close contact with research.  Their culture was obviously beginning to corrupt his Vulcan sensibilities.  
  
 (The fact that he had spent his formative years in daily contact with his own human mother was, apparently, irrelevant.)  
   
Kirk reached into his back pocket and pulled out a leash.  Then, he leaned down and clipped it to Jimmy’s collar.  “You’re not going anywhere,” he said.  
   
Spock narrowed his eyes.  “I presumed the dog would accompany you?”  
   
Kirk looked up, startled.  “No, I mean—” he flapped his hands at the leash.  “Not going anywhere but with me…” he trailed off, then did a double take.  “Wait a second, did you just make a joke?”  He turned to Hyun Jae.  “Did he just make a joke?”  
   
“Vulcans do not joke,” Spock said, rather offended.  
   
Hyun Jae shrugged.   
   
 “No,” Kirk said slowly.  “They don’t.”  He looked, suddenly, very thoughtful.  
   
Spock averted his gaze.  “If you are ready to depart, Mr. Kirk,” he said.  “I will show you to the door.”  
   
Kirk bit his lip.  “Yeah,” he said. “Okay.” He grinned.  “Thanks for taking care of Jimmy,” he said to Hyun Jae.  
   
“Again, no problem,” she returned.  “He’s lovely.”  
   
“It was nice to meet you again, Henri,” Kirk said.  
   
Henri mumbled something that could have been a goodbye.   
   
“Well,” said Kirk.  He turned to follow Spock back out the hall to the front door.  “Would you mind holding the leash for me for a sec?” he asked, bending down to grab his sneakers.  
   
Spock accepted it wordlessly, willing himself not to flinch as their fingers brushed the slightest bit.   
   
“Thanks,” said Kirk.  He shoved his feet into his shoes, then took the leash back.  “Well, I guess I’ll see you around town sometime, huh?”  
   
“Perhaps,” Spock allowed.  
   
Kirk looked amused.  “It’s a pretty small town,” he pointed out.  
   
Spock nodded.   
   
“All right.  Well, see you later I guess.”  
   
“Goodbye, Mr. Kirk,” said Spock, shutting the door behind him.  
   
~ * ~  
   
As a research assistant at Rinehart Clinic, Spock was not technically supposed to interact with the clients. However, given that Rinehart was really a small clinic, and given also their extreme laissez-faire attitude towards proper protocol, Spock did tend to spend some of his time with the clients.  In fact, Spock spent much of his time with them. To be honest, if Vulcans were inclined towards having favorites of things—which of course they were not, but if they _were_.  Well.  Spock might have said that, though data analysis was an activity he did find satisfactory, he found more satisfaction in talking with the people whom his research was purported to be helping.  
   
He was never telling Captain Pike.  
   
“When I was a boy, I used to spend a great deal of time fishing,” said Mr. Willoughbe.  He ran a hand through sky-gray hair, and smiled absently.  
   
“You still spend all your time fishing,” Mrs. Young (“Call me Karen, Dear”) told him.  
   
“I once caught a pike as tall as my brother.”  
   
“You don’t even have a brother,” said Karen.  
   
“I do so have a brother,” Mr. Willoughbe retorted.  Then his features clouded over.  “Or was it a cousin…?”  
   
“Mr. Willoughbe, your daughter is here to pick you up,” the receptionist called. He gave Spock a sympathetic look.  Spock returned it with a blank one.  “You can tell more stories to our poor intern next time, okay?”  
   
Mr. Willoughbe’s expression brightened as a middle-aged woman entered the clinic waiting room.  “Eva?”  
   
“No, Dad,” said the woman.  Her voice was resigned, but patient.  “I’m Joy, remember?”  
   
“Oh, yes,” the old man said, though he still sounded confused. “My sister’s name was Joy…”  
   
“That’s right,” the woman said as she wheeled him out the door.  “You named me after your sister.”  
   
Next to him, Karen was shaking her head.  “Poor man,” she said. “Never was the same after his wife died.”  
   
“Is there nothing that can be done?” Spock queried.  
   
She turned to him, gave him a measuring glance.  “Apparently not,” she said dryly.  She heaved a sigh.  “Well, at least he has family here for him.  Even if he can’t remember their names half the time.”  
   
“Indeed,” Spock agreed. He tilted his head.  “Do your family also live close by?”  
   
Karen snorted.  “More like two thousand miles away,” she said, though her tone was humorous enough.  She smiled a little.  “My nephew’s here for a while though.  Said he was sick of the Midwest and wanted to see some trees.”  She leaned towards Spock conspiratorially.  “I know he really came to keep me company.  But don’t tell a soul.  It’ll ruin his reputation.”  
   
“I will not,” Spock promised solemnly.  “Do—”  
   
“Hey, Auntie!” interrupted a jovial voice from the door.  “Sorry I’m late, I had to—oh, hey.  It’s you.  Hi, Spock.”  
   
Spock froze for a second in what might have been surprise.  After another moment, he turned back towards Karen, who he had somehow been speaking to on and off for a week without accumulating this knowledge. “The terrier is yours?”  
   
Karen beamed.  “Isn’t he just the sweetest little pooch you ever did meet?”  
   
“He ran away again this morning,” said Kirk, coming to stand next to him.  “I really think you should invest in a forcefield.”  
   
“He was very high spirited,” Spock said.  
   
“Ready to go, Auntie?” Kirk repeated.  Then, “I didn’t know you worked here, Spock.”  
   
“I do,” Spock said, at loss to say anything else.  Then something occurred to him and he narrowed his eyes.  “You do not intend to drive Mrs. Young home on your motorcycle, do you?”  
   
Kirk choked.  “What—no!  What kind of guy do you take me for?”  
   
Karen sighed.  “I remember when I used to ride a motorbike.”  
   
“It’s true,” Kirk confirmed, before Spock could even formulate a proper response to that new tidbit of knowledge.  “Taught me how to ride mine, actually.”  
   
“And to tinker with it,” Karen reminded him.  She shrugged.  “Of course, that was before I got sick.”  
   
“Well, now you’ve got me as a chauffeur,” said Kirk in a cheery voice that even Spock recognized as forced. He offered her his arm, and she stood slowly, resting her weight against him.  “Ready?”  
   
Karen nodded to Spock.  “Lovely conversation, as always, Mr. Spock,” she said.  She patted Kirk’s arm.  “Ready, Jimmy.”  
   
“Okay,” said Kirk.  “See you around, Spock.”  
   
And then they were out the door and gone, leaving Spock to sit for a moment and wonder at the coincidence.   
~ * ~  
   
Having now met Jim Kirk on three separate occasions, Spock was relatively unsurprised to meet him yet again in town’s grocery store, and then twice more in the clinic as he picked up his aunt from her appointment.   
   
The seventh occasion, however, was not what Spock would have preferred.  
   
“Oh my god,” came the familiar voice as Spock swam back into consciousness. “Hey, Spock.  Spock!  Can you hear me?”  
   
“Affirmative,” Spock grumbled.  He blinked once, twice, and a red swell of agony washed down his left side and into his leg.  “What—Jim Kirk?”  
   
“Oh good, you recognize me,” said the man with obvious relief.  “Hang on, man.  The ambulance’ll be here in a no time.”  
   
“Ambulance?”  
   
“Yeah, dude,” said Kirk.   
   
“What—for what purpose?” managed Spock.    
   
Kirk looked alarmed.  “You crashed your bike, man!” he exclaimed.  “Don’t you remember?”  
   
“Not really.” His eyelids felt heavy.  That was unusual.   
   
“Hey, hey!” Kirk put a hand on his shoulder.  “Don’t go to sleep on me now, dude.  You gotta wait until the ambulance gets here.”  
   
But Spock was already fading.  
   
By the time he was lucid again, he was lying in a bed that was not his and smelled of antiseptic, listening to footsteps on a linoleum floor and a beeping noise above his head that sounded suspiciously like a biobed monitor.    
   
Spock opened his eyes.  His vision was blurry.  He blinked once, twice, and it cleared. His gaze flitted around the room, taking in the bare white walls, the curtain acting as a door, and the monitor above his head. With a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, he recognized it as a hospital.  He noticed a red button next to his arm, and pressed it.  
   
A few moments later, footsteps halted outside the curtain separating his room from what he presumed to be a hallway, and then a hand pushed the curtain aside.  
   
“Mr. Spock, glad to see you’re awake,” said a familiar voice.  
   
Spock squinted.  “Janine?” he said faintly, as he recognized the mop of red curls.  “May I take this to mean I am in residence at Rinehart then?”  
   
Janine nodded.  “Yep,” she said, in what Spock privately thought to be an uncalled for cheerful manner, given the circumstances. “Almost had you flown back to San Francisco, but Dr. Piper and his family were vacationing in town anyway, so he came in and fixed you right up.”  
   
“Dr. Piper?” he recognized the name from somewhere.  
   
“Ah, Mr. Spock,” came a man’s voice. He parted the curtain and came to stand next to Spock’s bedside. “Mark Piper of Starfleet Medical,” he said.  When Spock just blinked at him, he added, “I served as Chief Medical Officer alongside Captain Pike on his last tour.  I’ve heard a lot about you from Chris.”  
   
“Oh,” said Spock. “In that case, I apologize for interrupting your vacation, Doctor.”  
   
Dr. Piper shook his head.  “Nonsense,” he declared.   
   
“May I inquire as to my…” Spock fished for the word. “Prognosis?” he settled on finally.  
   
“Well, you’ll live,” said Piper, producing a PADD.  He thumbed through it.  “Although you’ll probably want to take it easy for a day or two.  You broke your leg in two places, bruised a couple of ribs, and smacked your head—glad to see you were wearing a helmet.”  He looked down at Spock approvingly.  Spock shrugged a little.  “Anyway, we repaired the bone but it’ll take a week or so to fully settle, and I got the swelling in your head to go down, but I don’t want you doing anything too strenuous for the next week. No computer screens either.”  
   
“Nothing strenuous,” Spock repeated. “No computers.”  
   
“Can you enter a healing trance?”  
   
“Yes but,” Spock bit his lip.  “I am not very practiced.”  
   
“Hmm,” said Piper.  He crossed his arms.  “Well, with your head the way it is, better not then.  I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait out the concussion the old-fashioned way.”  
   
“Very well,” sighed Spock.  He was about to ask for more detail, when there was a small commotion by the doorway.  
   
“Spock, you’re awake!” came a high-pitched squeal.   
   
Spock winced at the noise.  
   
“Indoor voice, Henri!” Hyun Jae scolded as she followed her son across the room.  She gripped his arm to prevent the inevitable leap onto Spock’s bed.  “Spock has a headache, remember? You have to keep your voice down.”  
   
“Looks like you have visitors,” said Dr. Piper dryly.  
   
Spock nodded.  “Hello Henri,” he said, throat still feeling rather dry.  “Hello Hyun Jae.”  He met her gaze.  “I apologize for the bicycle.”  
   
To Spock’s utter horror, Hyun Jae’s eyes filled with tears.  “Oh no, Spock!” she said, putting her hand to her mouth.  “I’m just glad you’re okay.  Don’t worry about the bike.  The bike is replaceable. You just focus on getting better.”  
   
“I…yes,” Spock said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.  
   
“And don’t worry about getting to work with your leg the way it is, either,” Hyun Jae went on.  “Jim’s offered to give you a ride for as long as you need it.”  
   
Spock’s mouth went even drier.  “Jim?” he repeated.  
   
“Yeah, Jim Kirk.  He’s been hanging out here—wanting to make sure you’re okay, I guess, since he found you—oh, thank goodness he found you, Spock.  Who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t…”  
   
“I assume someone would have stumbled upon me eventually.”  
   
Hyun Jae sniffed.  “Yes, well.  Anyway.  He’s gone off to get some coffee, but when he gets back I’ll let him know you’re awake.  If you don’t mind, that is.”  
   
Spock shook his head.  “I do not mind,” he said.  
   
“Speak of the devil,” Dr. Piper said. When Hyun Jae and Spock looked at him, he nodded toward the doorway. Jim Kirk stood there, looking a little more tired and pale than Spock recalled from their previous meetings, and clutching a carton with several coffee cups.  
   
“Hello, Mr. Kirk,” said Spock. His throat felt strange and his voice came out scratchier than he had anticipated.  
   
Kirk remained frozen for barely a second too long, before his mouth split into a smile. “Hey, Spock,” he said easily, coming into the room. He handed a large coffee cup to Hyun Jae. “Glad to see you’re up and about.”  
   
Henri tugged at his shirt. “Where’s mine?” he whined.  
   
“And a hot chocolate with whipped cream for you,” Kirk said dutifully, handing it to him. “Careful, it’s hot.” He glanced at Piper. “Sorry I don’t have one for you, Dr. Piper.”  
   
“Don’t worry about it,” Piper dismissed.  
   
Spock shifted, looking up to meet Kirk’s eyes. “I appreciate your assistance in the matter of my injury.”  
   
“Uh,” said Kirk, looking a bit cross-eyed at the phrasing. “I mean, if you’re going to put it like that—but really man, it was no big deal.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Glad to help.”  
   
Spock’s entire body felt heavy. He yawned, and then blinked in surprise. “I am not usually this tired.”  
  
“Probably the drugs, Son,” Dr. Piper said over his shoulder. “They’ll wear off eventually. We weren’t really sure about the dosages for you, so can’t give you a better estimate than that, unfortunately.”  
   
“How long will he need to be here, doctor?” Hyun Jae asked.  
   
Dr. Piper pursed his lips. “I don’t think we’ll need to keep him for more than a few more hours. As long as he has a nice, _quiet_ ,” he directed that particular word towards young Henri, “place to rest and heal up, should be fine to take him home tonight.”  
   
Hyun Jae nodded. “All right. We’ll be sure to be _extra quiet_ , won’t we, Henri?”  
   
Henri bobbed his head earnestly. “I’ll whisper all the time,” he whispered, quietly enough to be heard by the nurses across the hallway.


	3. Chapter 3

Spock’s new schedule was, predictably, a great deal less satisfactory than his old one. Unpredictably, it was a great deal more baffling.  That, Spock was 99.82% sure was entirely due to the presence of one James Kirk and not, as Hyun Jae suggested, his head injury.  
   
“I do not understand,” Spock said, his voice just barely a whine. “What purpose does bringing the dog serve?”  
   
Hyun Jae rolled her eyes, and fluffed up Spock’s pillow. “Sometimes small animals assist in the well-being of the ill.”  
   
“For humans,” Spock pointed out. “But as I have stated previously—”  
   
“Oh, look who’s here!” Hyun Jae said brightly. “Hi Jim. Hi Jimmy. Jim, so nice of you to bring the dog.”  
   
“Oh—really, it was no trouble.” Kirk smiled and scratched the back of his neck. He cast a sidelong look at Jimmy, who panted up at him serenely. “No, really,” he said again. “I think he would’ve ended up here even if I hadn’t driven him myself.”  
   
Hyun Jae peered down at Jimmy. Then, without so much as a by-your-leave, she bent down, scooped up the dog, and deposited him on Spock’s bed. Spock blanched a little, but Jimmy simply sniffed at his feet for a second before wandering up to about Spock’s hip-level, and curling up next to him.  
   
“Have fun you two!” Hyun Jae said, waving her way out of the door.  
   
As soon as she had gone, Kirk and Spock eyed each other with no small amount of trepidation.  
   
“Hey,” said Kirk.  
   
“Hello.”  
   
A beat.  
   
“So…” Kirk said, coming to sit at the chair nearby Spock’s bedside. “You’re in Starfleet.”  
   
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Is that a question or a statement?”   
   
“Um,” said Kirk. “Both, I guess? Do you like it?”  
   
“It is satisfactory,” Spock allowed.  
   
Kirk sat back. “That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.”  
   
“I am not a member of Starfleet’s recruitment team.” Spock adjusted his form on the pillows, meanwhile allowing his gaze to slide over to the PADD _just_ out of reach.  
   
“Hey,” Kirk said. “I know you’re not allowed to look at computer screens. Don’t even think about it.”  
   
“I do not know what you’re talking about,” Spock said, voice flat but still managing to sound slightly guilty.  
   
Kirk crossed his arms. “Uh huh.”  
   
“Mr. Kirk,” Spock began. He stopped, realizing that he had managed to begin stroking Jimmy’s head at some point without becoming aware of it. Jimmy opened one accusing eye as Spock started to remove his hand. Spock, sensing it was perhaps better to choose his battles wisely, resumed his strokes.  
   
“Please,” Kirk said. “Call me Jim. ‘Mr. Kirk’ is way too formal.”  
   
Spock bobbed his head in acknowledgement, then spent a few precious seconds wishing that he had not. “Jim,” he said. “Please forgive me if I am being rude—I am not always well-versed in human customs—But, if I may ask, what is it, exactly, that you are doing here?”  
   
Kirk blinked at him. “Uh, visiting you?” he suggested, waving his hand around to gesture at both Spock and anything in Spock’s immediate vicinity.  
   
“Yes, I can see that,” Spock said impatiently. “But why are you visiting me?”  
   
Kirk stared at him. “Well, you were in a potentially deadly bike accident.”  
   
“Yes,” Spock agreed, hands twitching a little. “But we had only met six times previous to my accident, and none of these times involved much exchange aside from rudimentary greetings, so I simply do not understand—”  
   
“Yep, definitely talking to a Vulcan,” Kirk muttered  
   
“—Why you wish to be here.”  
   
Kirk shrugged. He picked a little at the loose threads poking out of the seat of his chair. “I don’t know,” he said, not looking at Spock. “I mean, I found you, so I guess I feel kind of responsible to make sure you’re okay.”  
   
“That is a very illogical thing to feel,” Spock informed him. “My well-being is not contingent upon your presence.”  
   
Kirk huffed out a laugh. Although Spock did not quite understand why, he found the sound of it oddly gratifying. Like he had cracked some bizarre code into understanding human relations. “I thought that feeling anything was illogical.”  
   
Spock frowned at him. “That is a misconception. An emotional response is simply an instinctive reaction due to stimuli. What is illogical is to allow those emotions to control one’s thoughts and actions.”  
   
“Yeah, yeah.” Kirk leaned back. “I read the _Kir’Shara_. I got it.”  
   
“You did no such thing,” Spock said flatly.  
   
Kirk narrowed his eyes. “Um, yeah man. Actually, I did.”  
   
“Why would you do so?”  
   
Kirk looked at the ceiling, crackling the knuckles on first his left hand, then his right. “Seemed interesting.”  
   
“That is an answer without substance,” Spock retorted.  
   
“Well it’s not like I had to write a book report on it.”  
   
Spock bit the inside of his lip. It was an emotional response, but he was injured. He was allowed some small lapses. “I still find myself doubting that you have read the Teachings of Surak in their entirety.”  
   
“Okay, now I’m kind of offended. What, you want me to prove it to you or something?”  
   
Spock considered that for a moment. “Yes,” he decided.  
   
In all honesty, Kirk did not actually appear to be that offended. In fact, he looked more amused than anything, if Spock was reading the expression correctly.  
   
“Fine,” he said. “Ask me anything.”  
   
~ * ~  
   
Jim Kirk did not make sense.  
   
No, that was an illogical statement.  
   
Rephrase: In Spock’s mental paradigm of Things That Follow Logical Paths and Things That Do Not, Jim Kirk had no proper place. He was clearly intelligent and interested in cultures other than his own, as evidenced by not only his having read the full Teachings of Surak, but also by his intermediate command of the Klingon tongue, and proclivity for pulling out glottal stops without provocation.  
   
On the other hand, Jim Kirk described himself as “A terrible student. No, really Spock. I was the worst.” And did not appear to have any further aspirations for his education, now that he had completed the Secondary Requirements. This was despite the fact that both of his parents (as Spock discovered, through prodding and, perhaps slightly unwholesome use of search engines) were considered outstanding members of Starfleet.  
   
Then there was the paradox about his family. Spock could empathize, a little, given that he avoided the topic of his own family with quite the dedication. This avoidance did not appear to phase Kirk, as he once burst into Spock’s room with a “Holy shit, you’re half human? And your dad is Sarek? _The_ Sarek? Now I’ve heard everything.” Unintentionally perhaps, revealing that Kirk’s own ability to misuse search engines rivaled Spock’s. However, any mention of his own close kin, aside from his great aunt, whom he praised daily, was met with evasion worthy of the finest of the Vulcan Masters.  
   
And yet, through all of these contradictions that apparently made up the young man James Kirk, there was a peculiar pull to him. Spock could not quite put his finger on exactly why, but it was as if his presence was nearly magnetic. The enigma of him, perhaps? Or just the sheer force of his personality?  
   
Spock did not understand. And if there was one thing that Spock actively disliked, it was when he lacked understanding.  
   
“So, how’s it to have such a nice, smooth ride to the clinic, rather than having to ride your bike?” Kirk asked him about two weeks into their more intimate acquaintance.  
   
“This is not a smooth ride,” Spock said, teeth clenched. Beneath him, Jim’s aunt’s old truck rattled and lurched. Spock’s fingers gripped the armrest for dear life. “How old did you say this machine was?”  
   
Kirk snickered, but not unkindly. “Don’t worry about it.”  
   
“Vulcans do not ‘worry’.” Spock said, now craning his neck to make sure that the ominous crash he had just heard had not been some vital piece of the engine falling off onto the road.  
   
“Of course not,” Kirk said fondly. He pulled up into the clinic’s driveway with the squeal of brakes in dire need of some fluid. “Here we are, see?” He patted Spock’s hand reassuringly. Spock stared at him. “Nothing to worry about.”  
   
“I—” Spock said, stumbling uncharacteristically. _Surak_ , he could still feel the touch of Kirk’s hand on his and they were not even touching. “I—thank you.”  
   
“No problem,” Kirk said, apparently completely oblivious to the part where he had just sent all of the synapses in Spock’s brain firing into wild abandon. “Pick you up at 5.”  
   
“I—yes. Seventeen hundred hours.” Spock swallowed. “I will see you then.”  
   
And Kirk smiled, and whistled, and drove off cheerfully without a clue, leaving Spock still standing on the curb, utterly baffled.  
   
When Kirk returned eight hours later, the first thing out of his mouth was a demand that they go get ice cream. Spock did not have much of a sweet tooth, but Kirk’s cajoling (“They have the kind made with coconut. It’s completely vegan, I swear”), and the memory of that morning, convinced Spock to attempt the so called ‘ice-cream.’  
   
Technically, Pike had sent him here due to deficiencies in his understandings of cultures. So really, he was just following Pike’s orders. Very, very dutifully.  
   
Kirk got mint-chocolate chip in a gigantic waffle cone and, while licking it (to Spock’s continued distress), waxed poetic about the history behind the invention of the waffle cone. Meanwhile Spock, in a brilliant display of poor decision-making, ordered the coconut ice cream. The chocolate coconut ice cream, with the caramel swirl.  
   
“Jim,” Spock said as they exited the shop. “I do not always understand human social interactions. Could you explain something to me?”  
   
“Sure thing, Spock.” Kirk took another bite. “What is it?”  
   
Spock jerked his head towards a back table visible through the window. “That man sitting at that table. He watched us the entirety of the time we were inside. In particular, he was watching me. Why would he do such a thing?”  
   
Kirk followed his gaze to where Spock pointed. As soon as he caught sight of the man Spock spoke of however, he looked away, swearing under his breath.  
   
“Is there a problem?”  
   
Kirk scowled. “No,” he said. “That guy’s just kind of an asshole. Come on.”  
   
“I do not understand.”  
   
Kirk wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then licked his hand. Spock stared. “He’s just—his politics.”  
   
Spock stopped. Although the niceties of human conversation often eluded him, this he could read between the lines well enough. “He does not approve of my presence here,” he stated.  
   
Kirk shrugged. “Yeah,” he muttered, not looking at Spock. “Like I said, he’s an asshole. Come on, let’s go.”  
   
As the late afternoon wore on until evening, the refined sugars mixed with the potent cacao of Spock’s frozen treat, somehow conspired to inspire him to agree to Kirk’s increasingly illogical suggestions. Activities like “Walking on the beach. No, barefoot Spock, you weirdo.” And, “Let’s build a bonfire.” And “Seriously, you’ve never stargazed for Terran constellations before? Are you kidding? Spock—no, shut up. You’re going to lie down, look for the goddamn big dipper, and like it.” All of these things, which, if Spock perhaps had not been under the influence of some certain substances, he might have found illogical at best, boring at most, now seemed like completely reasonable activities to partake in.  
   
And as he stared upward at the dark night sky (when had it become so late?), the flames up their beach fire faithfully warming Spock’s left side and part of his head, he felt a peculiar stirring of courage. It was that odd feeling, coupled with curiosity about Kirk’s actions that morning, that prompted Spock to move his arm so that their fingers just barely brushed one another. And it was that same feeling that was responsible for keeping them there until the fire had all but burnt out, and Kirk had roused himself enough to sleepily declare that he had better take Spock home before Hyun Jae came after them.  
   
If Spock had only indulged in the ice cream, he would have been perfectly functional by this time. However, he vaguely recalled Kirk plying him with hot chocolate as the evening wore on, and now he was finding it difficult to focus his eyes properly. This did not ease his apprehension when, upon pulling up to the house, he found that despite the late hour, the light in the kitchen was still on.  
   
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Kirk said, slapping him lightly on the shoulder after unlocking the doors.  
   
Spock eyed him blearily. “I do not understand, I am not a feline,” he tried, but all that came out was what sounded like a disgruntled mutter.  
   
“You’ll be fine,” Kirk assured him, laughing a little. Spock found himself lighter at the sound of it. “I’ll see you Monday.”  
   
“Monday,” Spock managed to repeat. He got out the car, feeling slightly wobbly and a little nauseous. Despite that, he was able to make it all the way to the door and fumble with his keys for a good long minute, before finding himself inside. He blinked at the sight that awaited him.  
   
“So,” said Hyun Jae, arms crossed, leaning against the doorway leading to the kitchen. “I really don’t know whether I should be proud or furious that it is now,” she checked her wristwatch, “now two in the morning, and you are only just getting home.” The teddy-bear patterned pajama pants and the large t-shirt chastising the reader for putting the mineral dickite into an already mud-filled borehole, did absolutely nothing to make her less intimidating.  
   
“Um,” said Spock, having absolutely no experience whatsoever with this sort of situation and no idea what to say.  
   
Hyun Jae’s sharp eyes took in his flushed cheeks and his less rigid than usual stance. “Oh my god,” she said, taking a step forward. “Are you drunk?”  
   
At that, Spock’s head swung up defiantly. “No,” he said. Hyun Jae raised an eyebrow. “Maybe,” Spock amended, deflating a little, now looking anywhere but at his host mother’s face.  
   
At Spock’s admission, Hyun Jae exhaled and rubbed at her temples. “Okay,” she said. “Why don’t you go to bed? We can talk about this in the morning.”  
   
Spock nodded unsteadily. Yes, that seemed logical. In fact, the couch right over there—  
   
“Your actual bed, Spock.”  
   
Right. Of course. Now, if only he could recall how to get there.  
   
   
~ * ~  
   
When Spock stumbled downstairs uncharacteristically late the next morning, Hyun Jae greeted him with a nod and a cup of coffee.  
   
“How are you feeling?”  
   
Several thoughts ran through his mind at that. Things like, _my body feels as though it has just been assaulted by a large hover-car_ and _Vulcans do not have feelings_ and _I think I have accidentally forged some type of emotional connection to Jim Kirk—would it be too much trouble to make a sub-space phone call so that I might question my mother about this?_  
   
What he said was, “I apologize for my conduct last night. It was reprehensible.”  
   
Hyun Jae choked on her coffee a little. “I think _reprehensible_ is kind of a strong word,” she said. “Not that I wouldn’t have appreciated a phone call, but everyone makes mistakes.”  
   
Spock stared at the coffee in his mug. He had developed somewhat of an attachment to the drink, as it reminded him of a particularly pungent Vulcan tea that was nearly impossible to find outside of specialty shops and Vulcan itself. “I should have known better.”  
   
“Yes,” Hyun Jae agreed. “But these things happen. Next time, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”  
   
Spock nodded. Hyun Jae smiled.  
   
“Well then. As punishment, I think you’ll have to spend the morning with me, rather than your new BFF. Come on, there’s a cinnamon roll down at the bakery that’s calling my name.”  
   
After informing Hyun Jae that he didn’t understand how a pastry could be capable of calling anyone, and after Hyun Jae had rounded Henri up from the backyard and forced him into clothing that was not a superhero cape and underpants, the three of them trooped down to the main street.  
   
“What do you want, Spock?” Hyun Jae asked, reaching for her purse. “It’s on me.”  
   
“Mama, I want a cookie,” Henri informed her.  
   
“Maybe later, buddy. For now, you can split mama’s cinnamon roll.”  
   
“And a hot chocolate.”  
   
“Fine, yes. A hot chocolate. Spock?”  
   
“A piece of the rye bread toast will be sufficient, thank you,” Spock said, turning a little pale as the scent from Henri’s hot chocolate wafted towards him.  
   
Hyun Jae shook her head a little, but before long, they were seated comfortably at a picnic bench just outside the bakery, watching the comings and goings of tourists and locals alike.  
   
“Hey Spock. Spock.” Henri put his mug of hot chocolate down carefully, and Hyun Jae took the moment to pounce on the brown rim around his mouth with a wetted napkin.  
   
“Yes, Henri?”  
   
“Do you know how to surf?”  
   
Spock blinked. “No.”  
   
“Why not?”  
   
“I do not particularly care for the water,” Spock said, somewhat delicately.  
   
Henri scrunched up his face. “Why not?”  
   
“It does not go well with my particular physiology.”  
   
“But _why_?”  
   
“Because—”  
   
“Oh, look Spock. It’s your friend,” Hyun Jae interrupted. She pointed at the surf shop across the street. Spock squinted and, sure enough, Jim Kirk, in the company of two other young men, was exiting the shop.  
   
“Aren’t you going to go say hi?”  
   
Spock glanced again at the trio. He had almost made the decision to stand and go to Kirk, when he froze. One of the men with him had turned his head just enough so that Spock could catch a glimpse of his features.  
   
It was unmistakably the face of the man from the ice cream shop the day before. The one who Jim had called, ‘an asshole’ and who Spock had quickly deduced to be, at best a mild xenophobe—at worst, involved in one of those shady ‘Earth First’ organizations. And he appeared to be—what, Jim’s friend? Companion? The friend of Kirk’s other companion?  
   
“No, I had better not,” Spock said. He took a sip of his peppermint tea, eyes carefully avoiding Hyun Jae’s sharp ones. “He appears…busy.”  
   
Hyun Jae frowned. “Really? I don’t think he’d mind if you just went over there.”  
   
“I—” said Spock. He thought for a moment. “I—but I promised that I would spend the morning with you and Henri.”  
   
“Well yeah, Spock, but I’m not your jailer. Jesus.” Hyun Jae rolled her eyes at him. “Honestly, you can go say hi to your friend. We’re not going to be offended.” She slung an arm around Henri and tugged him close. “Are we, Henri?”  
   
Henri shook his head furiously, and grinned.  
   
“No,” Spock said, now grasping at straws. “I would not want to, to distract him. Look, he is already leaving.”  
   
Hyun Jae looked at him quizzically, but then moved her left shoulder in a half-shrug, and dropped the subject.  
   
   
~ * ~  
   
   
True to his word, Kirk picked Spock up for work at the clinic on Monday. They spoke of many things, including how well Spock had healed from his injury, the attempts of an environmental group to clone the three hundred year old DNA of a humpback whale (“It will not be successful,” Spock predicted), and Jimmy’s latest escapade—which had apparently begun with a pair of Kirk’s socks, and ended at the veterinary hospital.  
   
Spock did not ask about the man from the ice cream shop.  
   
As the week progressed into Friday, Spock still refused to bring up the subject. Discussing Federation politics and Vulcan philosophy, while also determining Kirk’s exact hip to shoulder ratio, (for whatever peculiar reason) just seemed of far more interest.  
   
Spock also was now spending a great deal of his time wondering just how to explain to Kirk that all that thoughtless touching he had been doing—brushing hands, hands on shoulders, _gripping Spock by the wrist_ , had some very important connotations in Vulcan culture that Kirk was probably not aware of. However, Spock also had to come to grips with the fact that he had not exactly at any point, told Kirk to stop.  
   
So naturally, there also lay the inevitable conclusion that if Spock were to inform Kirk of his trespass, then he would also have to explain why he hadn’t said anything earlier.  
   
And also that he was apparently not…averse, to Kirk’s attentions? (Rather, the opposite). But did Kirk actually mean what his actions said? Did he understand the implications of any level of involvement with a Vulcan?  
   
The entire situation was extremely aggravating.  Pike must never hear of it.  
   
They were lying in a field this time, the stars bright overhead. Spock had acquiesced to Kirk’s request to “show you this awesome place near the park” only once he had made good on his earlier promise to call Hyun Jae and solemnly inform her that he would be home at a much later hour than usual. Hyun Jae had sounded normal on the phone, but Spock was pretty sure that she had laughed at him as soon as they had hung up.  
   
Kirk turned to him. “You sure you don’t want to—”  
   
“No,” Spock said flatly. “I refuse to disrupt the lives of innocent bovines for your personal amusement.” A beat. “Human humor is illogical,” he added, just to further convey his contempt for the idea.  
   
“Jesus, a little cow tipping never hurt anyone. Lighten up, would you?”  
   
“I will not,” Spock retorted. “The cow is entitled to as much dignity as you or I.”  
   
Kirk sniggered at that and took a deep sip from the bottle of whisky he had smuggled in his jacket. “I keep trying to corrupt you, but you never change, do you?”  
   
“I was not aware that your suggested activities were intended to be corrupting,” Spock replied.  
   
Kirk exhaled, taking another sip of the whisky, wincing as it burned its way down his throat. “You’re a cool guy, Spock,” he confessed. “I, uh. I like the way you are now.” He scrubbed his face with the back of his hands. “Ugh, I need more to drink if I’m going to say shit like that,” he muttered to himself. Spock pretended not to hear that last part.  
   
“You are…fascinating as well,” he heard himself say. Wait. Had he said that? He hadn’t meant to say that.  
   
“Fascinating, huh?” Kirk leaned over, propping his chin up with his hands. “Pretty high praise from a Vulcan.” He nodded. “I’ll take it,” he declared, flopping back down again. Spock could feel the heat radiating from his body.  
   
At this point, Kirk was now close enough that Spock could smell the alcohol on his breath. Spock was also very aware of every single point that their bodies made contact, as casual as it might be. Kirk brushed his hand slowly against Spock’s. Spock swallowed. That was deliberate. There was absolutely no way that that had not been a deliberate attempt to…to…  
   
“Are you attempting to solicit an emotional reaction from me?” Spock asked, feeling oddly out of breath. When had his voice become so hoarse? He looked over at Kirk, who was smiling a little, and then suddenly his face was much closer, their breaths mingling.  
   
“I don’t know,” Kirk said. He stroked Spock’s fingers again, going from the tip of them to the base of his palm, tip-toeing little patterns across Spock’s wrist. Spock drew in his breath sharply. “What do you think?”  
   
“Your actions,” Spock managed. “Are not precisely up for interpretation.”  
   
“Mmhmm,” Kirk said. And Spock could not quite have recounted how exactly it came to be, but he soon found himself flat on his back in the grass with Kirk on top of him, grinning, holding down his wrists. “What about now?”  
   
“Um,” said Spock.  
   
“Now?” Kirk moved so close that their faces were practically touching.  
   
“I—”  
   
Kirk kissed him the human way. Just a light touch of the lips, barely there. He sat back, still straddling Spock’s hips. Spock decided that human kissing was not as unpleasant as he had earlier assumed.  
   
“What about now?”  
   
Spock swallowed. “I think,” he said, just barely managing to keep his voice from a tremble. “I will need more data. To make an appropriate assessment. Of the situation.”  
   
Krik grinned. It was the sort of smile that made his entire face come alive. “I can do that,” he said, and leaned down again.  
   
~ * ~  
   
Thus began a new era in Spock’s life. Kirk was—Kirk was disturbingly affectionate. All the time. Spock suspected that had he been human, Kirk’s constant ( _constant!)_ physical contact would barely have registered. Or, perhaps, been expected. However human part of his genome might have been though, Spock was Vulcan enough that the nerves related to the psychic centers of his brain were constantly buzzing under his skin from all the overstimulation.  
   
“Have a good day,” Kirk told him, bringing his hand up to the back of Spock’s neck to tug on the short hairs there.  
   
A breath nearby his ear. A small nibble. “We have to be quiet,” Kirk warned him. “Remember, Henri’s just downstairs.”  
   
“Hello Hyun Jae,” Kirk told Spock’s host mother cheerfully, resting his hands on the small of Spock’s back as they came up the walk.  
   
“Uh,” said Hyun Jae, looking properly baffled. “Hello, Jim. Spock.”  
   
“Hello,” Spock muttered, resolutely refusing to make eye contact with Hyun Jae. Such demonstration was practically outlawed on Vulcan. He could only hope that neither of them were aware of the social conduct he and Jim were stomping all over.  
   
“Well, see you later, Spock,” Kirk told him, squeezing his hand once before releasing it. Spock flushed bright green. That was it. Jim Kirk was turning him into a harlot.  
   
“Yes,” he stuttered uncharacteristically. “Later.”  
   
As Kirk released him and strode back down the walk, whistling, Spock slowly turned to look at Hyun Jae. She stared back at him, eyebrows raised, arms crossed.  
   
“So,” she said. “Anything you want to tell me?”  
   
Spock considered his options. “Not particularly,” he decided.  
   
Hyun Jae pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “Just, make sure you use protection,” she sighed, before wandering back into the kitchen. “I don’t want to have to explain to Captain Pike that a local got you in the family way.”  
   
Despite these small pitfalls, Spock could not bring himself to tell Kirk to touch him less frequently. What if he offended him? Or worse—what if Kirk then ceased to touch him at all?  
   
It was this last fear that had brought him to his current predicament.  
   
“Psychic blockers?” Janine repeated, after Spock made his request. “Whatever for?”  
   
Spock looked down at the ground. “I have been experiencing somewhat frequent headaches, as of late. I believe it to be due to psychic over-stimulus.”  
   
Janine frowned. “And that’s never happened before? I think you should visit a doctor before you start self-medicating, Spock. It might be something more serious.”  
   
“I am speaking to you,” Spock pointed out.  
   
“Don’t get smart with me. I don’t have a qualification in xeno-medicine and you know it.”  
   
“Please,” said Spock. He tried to channel some of Jim Kirk’s human charm, but was likely only marginally successful. “I will visit a doctor when I return to San Francisco. It is only for a few weeks. Just for a temporary solution.”  
   
Janine wavered, clearly not happy about it, but also just as clearly unwilling to leave Spock in pain.  
   
“Fine,” she relented. “But I’m only going to give you one prescription. If you want it refilled, you’re going to have to go on a _proper_ doctor’s visit.”  
   
“Yes, of course,” Spock said, trying not to sound too eager.  
   
“What’s in the bag?” asked Kirk as he picked him up at the end of the day.  
   
“Headache medication,” Spock said.  
   
Kirk glanced at him quizzically. “I didn’t know Vulcans could get headaches.”  
   
Spock shrugged, a human habit he had picked up, and kept his gaze fixed on the window. The day had started out mostly sunny, but had devolved into a sort of graying haze.  
   
“Heard there’s going to be a storm coming in tonight,” Kirk said, in response to Spock’s silence. “Auntie’s got me making sure everything’s secure. Don’t know what she’s so worried about, it’s not like we get hurricanes up here.”  
   
“The water is far too cold for hurricane conditions.” The reply was almost automatic. “But storm winds can still be damaging.” He exhaled, turning to look at Kirk. “I do not recall the majority of my accident,” he said. “But I remember that it was raining and windy that day as well. And…” he trailed off.  
   
“It was shitty,” Kirk said. Spock could hear the anger in his voice. “I’m sorry it happened.”  
   
Spock frowned. “It was an accident,” he said. “And unfortunate. But I am…pleased. That though it did occur. You were the one to find me.”  
   
Kirk looked at him sharply for a moment, then shook his head and turned back towards the road. His knuckles were white as they gripped the steering wheel.  
   
“Jim?” Spock said, after a moment. “Are you all right?”  
   
Kirk exhaled. “You shouldn’t be so pleased,” he said tightly. “It was shitty. It should never have happened.” Spock tilted his head at this.  
   
“If it had not, we would never have progressed as we are,” he pointed out, quite logically, he thought.  
   
Kirk slowed the truck down, pulling into the driveway of Hyun Jae’s house. Spock unbuckled his seat belt and was halfway out of the door before Kirk’s hand on his shoulder made him stop.  
   
“I’m sorry,” he said, his tone unusually subdued. “I guess…” Spock searched his expression, somewhat unnerved to find that he could not read it with ease. “I guess I would just rather you had never gotten hurt at all.”  
   
Spock nodded. “I appreciate the sentiment.” He briefly squeezed Kirk’s hand before removing it from his shoulder and climbing out the rest of the way. “But I do not know if I would agree with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my solemn duty to inform you all that 'dickite' is a real mineral. Also, thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey, Spock,” Hyun Jae greeted as he came in the door. “Good day?”  
   
“It was satisfactory,” Spock allowed.  
   
“Heard it’s going to storm tonight.” Hyun Jae looked back down at her reports. “Any requests for dinner?”  
   
Spock shook his head in the negative.  
   
Hyun Jae closed shuffled her documents around and closed her computer with a snap. “I was thinking a soup,” she said. “Maybe, mushroom barley.” Her expression twisted. “Henri won’t eat it though. He can have macaroni I guess.” She looked up. “What do you think?”  
   
“I have no opinion on the matter.”  
   
Hyun Jae bobbed her head. “That’s good enough for me,” she decided, standing up. Unceremoniously dumped on the ground by the motion, Fluffy The Cat let out a discontented yowl. “Oh, quiet, you,” Hyun Jae said. “It’s like we don’t even love you at all.”  
   
Fluffy The Cat opened one green eye and then, apparently deciding that complaining was just not worth the effort, closed it again and settled on the floor, tail twitching.  
   
“Lazy,” Hyun Jae commented, though there was no bite to it. She dusted the fur off of her pants. “Come on. You can help me peel onions.”  
   
As it transpired, the mushrooms that Hyun Jae had been so keen on using in the soup, had slimed.  
   
“This is ridiculous,” Hyun Jae muttered, combing through the refrigerator. “I swear I just bought these.”  
   
She peered through the doorway at her son, who was settled on the floor, building something with blocks.  
   
“I’m sorry, Spock,” she said. She ran a hand through her already frazzled hair, messing it further. “Would you mind watching him for a few minutes while I run to the store? I’m afraid if we try to tear him away we’ll have a mutiny on our hands.”  
   
Spock considered this. “I can go,” he offered. “It would be no trouble.”  
   
“Are you sure?”  
   
“Of course. Is there anything else that I should purchase, aside from mushrooms?”  
   
Hyun Jae bit her lip. “I’ll take a look,” she said.  
   
Hyun Jae offered him the use of her vehicle, citing concerns about the encroaching storm (“It’s already starting to drizzle. Just take the damn thing.”), so the ride to the store was brief. Spock was forced to park a small distance away, due to the unusual crowds. With the weather forecasted as fierce, it seemed as though half the town was there that evening.  
   
Spock maneuvered his way through the throngs with the skill of someone who had spent a large portion of their life actively avoiding contact with strangers. At the counter, he paid for not only two packages of mushrooms, but also two parsnips, a tomato, a gallon of coconut milk, and a box of pasta shaped like animals from Earth’s Mesozoic era. (Although Spock was confused as to why a creature clearly hailing from the Cretaceous would be juxtaposed next to one from the Triassic, he chalked it up to human proclivity for the absurd).  
   
He had almost made it back to the vehicle, when he turned a corner and nearly ran straight into Kirk.  
   
All right, that was a slight inaccuracy. What really happened was that Spock thought he heard Kirk’s voice coming from up the street, wondered at the coincidence, and decided that he might possibly invite him to dinner.  
   
But when he got to the source of the voice, turning down a neighborhood street, he froze at the sight that greeted him. Luckily, he was well hidden in the shadow from a fir tree, and Kirk’s back was to him. For as it transpired, Kirk was not alone. The man from the ice cream shop was with him. They were arguing.  
   
“Don’t fucking lie to me,” the man was saying. “I know you’re fucking him. What, is he your boyfriend now?”  
   
“It’s not like that,” Kirk said.  
   
“It’s not like that,” the other man mimicked in a falsetto.  
   
“Shut up,” said Kirk.  
   
“Shut up,” parroted the man. “You going to tell him?” he grinned, and there was nothing appealing in the expression at all. “Now that you’re fucking him, you going to tell him?”  
   
“You’re a dick,” Kirk said tightly. “I promised I wouldn’t, damn it. Now fuck the hell off.”  
   
The man narrowed his eyes. “That’s not it,” he said. “You don’t have the balls.”  
   
“Don’t,” Kirk warned, “fucking test me.”  
   
The man fixed him with a look, one hand on his hip as he leaned against the side of a building. “I’m shaking,” he drawled. He flicked ash from a cigarette on the ground as he turned to leave. “See you later, Jimmy.”  
   
Spock stood stock still, but the man headed down the street in the opposite direction, and did not even spare a glance where Spock stood half-hidden. When he was out of sight, Spock heard Kirk take several deep breaths. He scrubbed his face with his hands.  
   
“Fuck,” he swore. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”  
   
Spock felt like his stomach had been injected with lead. He didn’t understand. Who was that man? What was Kirk hiding? Spock tried to remember his meditative techniques, but they were suddenly impossible to grasp. His mind raced. He should go home. He should go home, and think about this logically. He should go home, think about this logically, and then come up with a plan to ask Kirk about it later, when he had mastered his own emotional response. He should—  
   
Spock stepped out from behind the tree. “Jim,” he said.  
   
Kirk whirled around, eyes wide, face pale. “Spock? What—what are you doing here?”  
   
In response, Spock held up the bag full of groceries.  
   
“Oh,” said Kirk.  
   
“Who was that man?” Spock queried. He walked closer. It was beginning to rain in earnest now. They would have to take shelter soon.  
   
Kirk shook his head, “He’s no one. Come on. Let’s go inside. Do you need a ride home? I can give you a ride if you want.” He made as if to head back towards the main street, but Spock stood his ground.  
   
“What’s going on?”  
   
“It’s nothing, Spock.”  
   
Spock’s lips tightened. “I do not believe you.”  
   
Kirk swallowed. “It’s nothing,” he said again. “He’s a dick and an asshole, but it’s nothing to do with you.”  
   
“Then tell me.”  
   
“I said it was nothing, can’t you respect that?” Jim snapped suddenly. He stepped out of Spock’s path so that he had a clear shot to the street. At that, Spock’s normally dormant, closely regulated temper, sparked a little. He had given _much_ to Kirk. More than he had given to anyone before. He snagged the sleeve of Kirk’s jacket before he could make his full escape.  
   
“Do not—do not lie to me, Jim Kirk,” he said. “What aren’t you telling me?”  
   
Kirk looked down at the fingers ensnared in his jacket. “Let go,” he said lowly.  
   
Spock shook his head. “I do not know you like this, Jim.” Tightened his grip. “Speak to me.”  
   
At that, Kirk’s face crumbled a little. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought,” he said bitterly. For a moment, their eyes met, searching. Then, in one quick move, Kirk jerked his arm away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to go.”  
   
Spock watched him hurry away, his own feet stuck to the ground as if glued there.  
   
If Hyun Jae noticed any change in Spock when he returned with the groceries, she was kind enough not to mention it. He did not speak of what had transpired; he did not want his host mother’s pity.  
   
Kirk continued to give Spock rides to and from work, but their easily camaraderie was gone. In its place, awkward silence raged. If they accidentally touched, Kirk drew away immediately. It was as if whatever connection they had had, had been severed without ceremony.  
   
Spock did not know what to do. Despite all his efforts, this rejection _hurt_. He knew that he had grown lax in his mental disciplines, preferring to spend time instead with Jim Kirk, but the state of his mind was bordering on appalling. As much as he tried, he could not banish Kirk from his thoughts, could not see him still as simply a temporary companion; a means to and from work.  
   
Finally, after a week of such treatment, Spock’s hurt reached enough of a level that he did not simply exit the truck when Kirk paused by his house.  
   
“We’re here,” Kirk said unnecessary, when Spock did not move from his seat.  
   
Spock nodded. “I am aware.” He turned to Kirk.  
   
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Kirk said awkwardly, looking steadfastly over Spock’s left shoulder.   
   
Spock shook his head. “Hyun Jae has repaired the bicycle. It will suffice for transportation for the remainder of the summer.”  
   
Spock’s words were apparently enough of a surprise that Kirk’s gaze suddenly focused on him for the first time all week. “Oh,” he said. Spock felt a very un-Vulcan rush of satisfaction at that. It was enough to make him brave.  
   
“I would like to thank you,” Spock said. “For the rides.”  
   
“Oh,” Kirk repeated.  
   
“And,” Spock continued, “for the lesson.”  
   
Kirk flinched.  
   
“When we met, I would not have believed you capable of such cruel behavior,” Spock said. “I do not know what I did to cause you to act so, aside from requesting your honesty, but nonetheless. It appears that I misjudged.” He got out of the truck. “Goodbye, Jim Kirk,” he said. He raised his hand in the _ta’al._ “Live long and prosper.”  
   
And without waiting for a response, though he doubted that one was forthcoming, he turned his back and walked towards the house.  
   
~ * ~  
   
   
Spock felt illogically lighter after that. He even assisted Henri with a puzzle, and offered to help Hyun Jae grade essays, and told her that he and Kirk were, ‘taking a break’ (he had learned this very useful term by eavesdropping on Hyun Jae’s favorite holo). He biked to work. He biked straight back afterwards. He did not venture down to the beach.  
   
He did not see Jim Kirk.  
   
The peace lasted three days. It lasted precisely until the old analogue clock in the kitchen read 8:24 pm, when Hyun Jae’s communicator began to ring.  
   
She stared at the number. Out of the corner of his eye, Spock looked too. It was not a number that he was familiar with. He handed it to Hyun Jae.  
   
“Hello?” she answered, after a moment. “Yes, speaking.” Her expression changed. “What? You’re kidding.” She listened for a moment, then shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I know. We’ll be there as soon as we can. All right. Thank you for calling.” She hung up, looking more serious than Spock had every seen her.  
   
“Is everything all right?” he asked hesitantly.  
   
Hyun Jae shook her head. “No,” she said. “It’s Jim Kirk. He’s been arrested.”  
   
For a moment, Spock felt as though he had fallen into some alternate dimension. “I beg your pardon?” he said blankly.  
   
Hyun Jae was already standing. “He’s being held at the station in Seaside. He says he wants to speak with you.” She cast an eye at Henri. “We can’t take him,” she said. “I’ll call the neighbors.” She hurried out of the room, already dialing a number on her communicator.  
   
The police station was an hour’s journey from the house. For the most part, it was silent.  
   
“Did the—did they mention what crime Jim has been charged with?” Spock made himself ask, after thirty-five minutes of different scenarios, each one wilder than the last, chased themselves through his imagination.  
   
“They wouldn’t say.” Hyun Jae ran her hand through her hair, making it even messier than before. “Just that he turned himself in at about 5pm, and that he wanted to speak to you, contingent upon making his confession.”  
   
“I…see.” But Spock did not see. How had this happened? Was he somehow responsible for this? What could crime could Jim possibly have committed? Why did Jim want to speak to him after an entire week of refusing to do so?  
   
In a daze, he was quiet the rest of the drive until Hyun Jae pulled up to the station. She turned off the vehicle, and unlocked the door, before shifting to look at Spock.  
   
“If you would find it more comfortable,” she said gently. “I can wait in the car for you.”  
   
Spock hesitated, then shook his head. “No,” he said. “Please I—” he didn’t know how to finish, but Hyun Jae seemed to understand his request well enough.  
   
“All right.” She got out the car as well, squaring her shoulders. “Let’s do this.”  
   
The walked through the door into the fluorescent light of the building’s interior. Hyun Jae’s boots clicked on the smooth, tiled floors as they made their way up to the front. She stepped up to the counter and handed her ID card to the officer there.  
   
“My name is Hyun Jae Yi,” she said. “This is Mr. S’chn T’gai Spock. We received a call from you earlier this evening regarding the arrest of James Kirk.”  
   
The officer ran a scanner over first her ID, then Spock’s. “All right,” he said, after an extra close look at Spock’s ID.  He heaved his not inconsiderable bulk off the chair, the lights shining off his shaved head. “Mr. Kirk is this way.”  
   
He lead them down the hall and stopped outside a nondescript room. “He’s in here,” he said, pushing down on the door handle.  
   
Stepping in, Spock knew he should not have been surprised, but the sight of Kirk, sitting in a chair flanked by two officers, still managed to catch him off guard. His hands were free, but Spock could hear the faint hum of forcefield restraints keeping him in place. When the door creaked open, Kirk’s head had jerked up at the noise. When he caught sight of Spock, their eyes met for a single agonizing second, before Kirk looked down at the table.  
   
“All right,” said one of the officers in the room. She flicked brown hair over her shoulder, and fiddled with a recording device. “Everyone’s here, so let’s get this show on the road.” She spoke into the recording device, describing the date, and the circumstances. Spock could hardly hear her. All he could focus on was Jim Kirk.  
   
And then finally, it was his turn to speak.  
   
“My name is James Tiberius Kirk,” he said, after the officer requested that he state his full name.  
   
“And why are you here?”  
   
“I would like to,” Kirk hesitated, gaze flickering over to Spock for a moment, then returning to stare at the table. “Seven weeks ago, Mr. S’chn T’gai Spock, a visiting student from Starfleet Academy, was in a serious bicycle accident. I,” he took a deep breath. “I brought him to the hospital for treatment. I also.” He stopped. “Sorry,” he said. He wiped his sleeve across his face. “I also—I also know that what happened to Mr. Spock was not an accident.”  
   
Silence.  
   
Spock could feel his own heart began to beat faster. There seemed to be a rushing sound in his ears. He sensed, rather than saw, Hyun Jae move closer to him. She did not touch him, which he found himself grateful for, but she stood there at his back, which was sufficient to return him to some semblance of control.  
   
“Can you explain further?” the officer requested.  
   
Kirk swallowed. “I had been with friends, surfing that day,” he said. His voice was subdued, and his shoulders curved inward, at odds with his usually boisterous personality. “But when it got cold in the afternoon, we decided to turn in. I—the guys with me rode in the truck and I, I followed behind on my motorcycle.”  
   
“Then what happened?”  
   
“I could see that there was a bike coming in the opposite direction.” Kirk stopped and took a sip of water from the plastic cup by his elbow. Spock could see that his hands were shaking. “It was raining pretty hard, so I couldn’t see who it was at first. So when the truck suddenly swerved, I thought that maybe the bike had skidded or something and they were trying to get out of the way, I didn’t realize.”  
   
He stopped speaking. He reached for the glass of water again, but his hands were shaking so badly that the water sloshed over the sides. He let go of the cup without drinking, and placed his hands in his lap.  
   
“What didn’t you realize?” prompted the officer.  
   
Kirk exhaled. “I didn’t realize—the guy driving the truck. He could see who was on the bike, and so he swerved and—and hit him. Deliberately.”  
   
Spock felt suddenly, very cold.  
   
“And how do you know that it was deliberate?” came the inexorable voice of the officer.  
   
“Because.” Kirk closed his eyes. “Because he backed up the truck, and then he—he hit the bike again. I watched him do it.”  
   
Next to him, Spock heard Hyun Jae make a small gasp, her hand going to her mouth.  
   
“The,” Kirk said, his gaze fixed on the table before him, “The guy driving the truck. He then got out. I guess to take a look or something. I don’t know. By that point, I was close enough to stop. And I got off my bike and ran over there. I don’t know what I expected. I thought he had killed somebody.” And then, curiously, the ghost of a smile stole over Kirk’s lips. “But he hadn’t,” he said softly. “Spock was still alive.”  
   
“I didn’t know what to do. My—the driver. He laughed. He smacked me on the back. Said, ‘the pointy-eared-bastard got what was coming to him.’ I didn’t know how to react. Then he, he just got in his truck and drove off.” Kirk gripped the edges of the table with his fingers. “After a moment I—I guess I kind of snapped out of it. I called an ambulance, and they came and took Spock to the clinic.” He sighed. “The rest you know.”  
   
“Mr. Kirk,” said the officer. “You realize that by waiting so long, you are now considered to have been an accomplice to this crime?”  
   
“Yes,” Kirk whispered.  
   
“Why didn’t you inform the police immediately after the incident took place?”  
   
Kirk shook his head. “I couldn’t.”  
   
“Define _couldn’t_ ,” the officer said, her voice now sounding a little dry. “Were you being blackmailed?”  
   
Kirk shook his head again.  
   
“Was it simply that you didn’t want to turn your friend in? Because I’ve got to tell you, Kirk. If that’s the kind of scum you call a friend, you deserve to be here.”  
   
At that, Kirk’s head snapped up. “He’s not my friend,” he growled. He buried his face in his hands. “His name is Sa— George Samuel Kirk. He’s my brother.”  
   
“Your brother.” Spock heard as if he was very far away.  
   
“Yes.”  
   
“And where is your brother now, Mr. Kirk?”  
   
   
~ * ~  
   
   
The next few weeks passed in a curiously numb blur for Spock. He had to file his own charges against George Kirk Jr. For a hate crime. Spock could barely grasp the concept, though the paperwork ensured that he was firmly in the grips of its reality. In his efforts to analyze what had happened, Spock read up on any Starfleet reports involving the name ‘Kirk.’ He reread about the attack on the USS Kelvin. The grief-stricken face of a four-year-old boy—father killed in the line of duty, mother in shock—appeared in one photograph. Spock stared, but he could not see any resemblance.  
   
The attackers had been Romulan. Was the physiological similarity between two species to blame for the elder Kirk’s actions? Or was it simply an early childhood tragedy, a poor family life resulting in poor friends and worse choices, that had sent that child in the report spiraling down the path towards attempted murder?  
   
Spock still did not understand.  
   
Starfleet was notified. Captain Pike called him himself to ascertain that Spock’s “mental health” was not suffering. He ended the call by recommending a visit to a Vulcan healer.  
   
Spock could not bring himself to file charges against Jim Kirk.  
   
He had to endure as Hyun Jae alternated between tip-toeing around him, and her somewhat smothering care. Henri, who did not understand why everyone was so upset, made sure to express his feeling about the situation by having at least one melt-down per day, if not more.  
   
In addition to all this, the end of the summer was fast approaching. Spock wrapped up his work at the clinic, and was surprised to find that he might feel a bit of emptiness, where once the people there, patients and staff both, had been.  
   
And although he could not dream, his waking hours were filled with the image of Kirk’s resolute face as he was led out of the room in handcuffs. He didn’t know how he should feel—or even if, as a Vulcan, he should _feel_ anything at all. Betrayal? Had Kirk betrayed him?  
   
Certainly Kirk’s withholding of the circumstances of Spock’s accident could be considered a betrayal. Then again, Kirk had also had to grapple with the act of turning on his own family. Spock knew that that could not have been an easy decision to make. Either way, he would have been vilified. And so his thoughts chased themselves in circles. One moment he felt as if he wanted to denounce Kirk and all that he represented. The next, he remembered whispers of hands on his own, a firm body next to his, gentle words in his ear.  
   
Whole new realms of madness were opened up when he began to consider what secrets _he_ had kept from _Kirk_. For the first time, he thought about She-Who-Was-To-Be-His-Wife. Had what he and Kirk done been a betrayal to her? Had his omission of the madness a Vulcan male would eventually undergo, not also been a lie?  
   
It was around this point that Spock half-seriously began to contemplate Kholinar.  
   
Spock would have been content (or so he told himself) never to encounter Jim Kirk again. He determined that after the summer, he would put this segment of his life behind him, to better focus on achieving his best at Starfleet Academy.  
   
He ignored the part of his brain that insisted on remembering exactly how Jim Kirk had looked, naked in the half-darkness. He tried to forget the sound of his laugh, or the brilliant flashes of his mind Spock would receive whenever they touched long enough for Spock to get the bare bones of a psychic reading off him.  
   
Spock was moderately successful in this endeavor, right up until the moment that Jim Kirk knocked on his front door.  
   
No one else was home. Spock was of course the one to answer it. He stared.  
   
“Hi,” said Kirk. “Um.”  
   
Spock could not answer. Something was wrong with his vocal chords. He really should visit a healer about that.  
   
Kirk swallowed, hard enough the Spock could see his Adam’s Apple bob up and down. “I wanted to. I wanted to speak with you.”  
   
Spock kept his outer expression blank, but internally he felt his control slipping. “When did they release you?” he finally said, managing to loosen his throat enough to speak  
   
“Oh.” Kirk scuffed his shoe on the ground. “Two days ago. My aunt she, she paid for my bail. I still have a court date, though.”  
   
Spock crossed his arms, more of a defense mechanism than anything. “You’re lucky Hyun Jae isn’t here. She’s threatened to shoot you the next time she sees you on the property.”  
   
Kirk shot a wary glance behind his shoulder. “She’s right,” he said, straightening. “I—just.”  
   
In the face of Kirk’s meekness, Spock was suddenly angrier than he could remember feeling in a long time. “Why are you here?” he demanded.  
   
Kirk jumped. “I…” he stuttered.  
   
A thought occurred to Spock; one of the awful questions he had spent hours pondering since Kirk’s confession. “Did you befrend me out of guilt?” he snapped. “Is that what this is, Mr. Kirk? Is this your human shame? I have no time for this—”  
   
“I came to apologize!” Kirk blurted. Spock froze in the act of shutting the door.  
   
“What?”  
   
“I came here to apologize,” Kirk repeated. He stepped up, curling his fingers around the door in order to prevent it being shut. “What I did was awful. I know. Family was no excuse. I should have gone to the police immediately. I shouldn’t have put you through this.”  
   
“Apologies cannot fix everything,” Spock said tightly. “What do you expect me to do with your words? They are just words.” It hurt, even as he said it. It hurt.  
   
“I know.” Kirk hung his head. “I know. I wanted, I just wanted you to know that the stuff, afterwards. All that. I didn’t do it because I felt guilty.” He bit his lip. “Okay, the first couple of visits, yeah, it was. But the rest.” He exhaled. “That was all real, Spock. I swear. I came here because…” he trailed off for a moment. Then set his shoulders and looked Spock straight in the eye. “I came here because I wanted you to know that I did—do—care about you,” he said. “I didn’t want you to leave, thinking that our—what we did—was some kind of, I don’t know, penance or something. You’re worth more than that.” He dropped his gaze again. “And I’m sorry.”  
   
Spock couldn’t breath. The silence hung between them, growing heavier with each second. Finally, Kirk let his hand fall from the door. He stepped back.  
   
“I guess I should let you go now,” he said. “I just, wanted you to know.” He began to turn.  
   
And Spock. In a panic. Seized his shoulder and whirled him back around, slamming him into the doorframe.  
   
“I do not forgive you,” Spock ground out. Kirk winced, both at the strength in Spock’s grip around his wrists, and at the words themselves.  
   
“Yeah, wasn’t really expecting you to.”  
   
“I am _furious_ with you,” Spock continued. “I am a Vulcan and yet you—you have roused me to true anger, James Kirk.”  
   
“I’m sorry,” Kirk choked out.  
   
Spock smashed their faces together. The kiss was uncultured and rough, teeth clacked, noses bumped. Spock bit Kirk’s lip hard enough to bleed. It was not a joining but an attack, a taking. When Spock wrenched himself away, Kirk’s head lolled back to smack against the doorframe, his expression dazed.  
   
“I am so angry with you,” Spock said hoarsely. He bowed his head, pressing it to Kirk’s chest, both hands fisting Kirk’s shirt. “I cannot stop thinking about you,” he whispered into Kirk’s shirt. “What have you done to me? You’ve _ruined_ me.”  
   
“I’m sorry.” Hesitantly, Kirk raised his arms to circle Spock’s back. “I’m so sorry.”  
   
They stood like that for a long while, Kirk pushed up against the doorframe, his hands slowly rubbing up and down Spock’s side and his back, blinking back what might have been mistaken for tears.  
   
When he felt as if his legs could support him again, Spock straightened. He slowly unclenched the hands tangled in Kirk’s shirt. Kirk let his arms drop.  
   
“I’m still angry with you,” Spock said finally. “It is an emotional response. I should not even feel it.”  
   
Kirk gave him a helpless look. “I would rather have your anger than your indifference,” he admitted, voice just barely audible. “For what it’s worth.”  
   
“That is a very human thing to say.”  
   
“Spock,” Kirk said, his words not quite a laugh, but close enough. “In case you didn’t notice. I am so very, _very_ human. I’m probably the most human man you’ll ever meet.”  
   
“Yes,” sighed Spock. “I know.”  
   
Kirk reached out hand to touch him, but before he could make contact, he dropped it and his gaze as well, focusing on swirls of the rough wood below their feet. “I know I shouldn’t even ask this. I don’t deserve it.” He looked up, wetting his lips, eyes searching Spock’s. “But—someday. Do you think you might be able to forgive me? What I did?”  
   
Spock closed his eyes. “Surak teaches forgiveness.” He paused, shaking his head. He brushed the sleeve of Kirk’s jacket almost wistfully, then stepped away, linking his hands behind his back. He lifted his chin. “But I am not Surak. These past weeks have taught me that I am barely even worthy to call myself a Vulcan.”  
   
“That’s not true,” Kirk said. “Don’t say that. Not because of me.”  
   
"I cannot help it.” Spock’s mouth twisted. “I cannot just give you my forgiveness, Jim Kirk. I cannot—” He stopped.  
   
There was silence. It was beginning to rain again. Above them, the pines swayed and creaked.  
   
Spock took a deep breath. He picked up the thread of his words. “But if you—if you truly want it,” he said, “you will have to earn it.”  
   
Their gazes locked.  
   
After a moment, Kirk spoke. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.” Like before, he began to reach for Spock, but again did not touch him. Knowing perhaps, that for now, he had forfeited that right.  
   
Instead, he slid out from between Spock and the doorframe. As if unable to obey the rest of his body’s commands, Kirk’s hand brushed Spock’s shoulder, as he passed. It was the briefest of contacts, yet it felt as though he were memorizing the feel of it, storing it up for the coming famine. Spock trembled internally, but did not move away. He kept his back towards Kirk as he stepped down the porch steps, the sound of the wood beneath his feet echoing his increasing distance.  
   
When he reached his motorcycle, Kirk paused, his voice barely loud enough to carry back to Spock’s ears, as he strapped on his helmet. As he spoke, Spock resisted the urge to turn around completely at his words.  
   
“Will you wait for me?”  
   
And in that moment, a moment that felt as though it could stretch out for a thousand years, with Kirk’s eyes fixed like burning on his back, the memory of his touch like a brand on his skin, Spock could do nothing but nod.  
   
“Yes,” he said softly. _Always._  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading. This fic sat on my hard drive unfinished for a year, so I'm glad to finally have it complete!


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